Tell Me Please
by Umeko
Summary: A young elfling wants to know more about her father and brothers but no one is really telling. An AU fic where Feanor leaves behind one of his children in Aman.
1. At Grandfather's House

Disclaimer- The canonic characters are the creation of Tolkien. I just borrow them.

Also posted on Archive of Our Own.

**1. At Grandfather's Place**

_I do not understand why no one would tell me about them,_ the elfling in the corner mused as she watched her grandfather at work. Beads of sweat ran down his face into his beard from the flames. The ringing of the hammer upon metal reassured her. All was dark and cold outside. Inside the forge, it was bright and warm. The grownups whispered if they must speak. By their graveness, the young child learnt to be solemn. She learned to be quiet in her corner, and to keep clear of the flames which would burn her. Thus the apprentices and smiths tolerated her in their midst.

She had heard the whispers about her atar, who had sailed across the sea with his seven sons, before she was born. That was when the Darkness came. Amme would cry at times and she did not know the reason why. Her mother, who was once robust and hale, now lay gaunt and wan in bed. The grownups said she never recovered her strength after her last birth. They would take her to Lorien to heal once the dark and cold lifted. It was too risky to brave the road with torches alone. No one would speak to the child of her father and brothers.

"_You are much like him… in your colour, at least…" _one of her many aunts had remarked at dinner before her grandfather shushed her.

On silent feet, the child slipped back into the house, to the room where her amil lay bundled in blankets on a bed, tended to by her grandmother. She waited patiently in the shadows as her grandmother took the empty bowl and tray, and headed past her towards the kitchen.

"Amme?" the child ventured. She was rewarded with a sad smile from the weary nis lying on the pillows.

"What brings you here, little one?"

"Will you tell me about them, please?" Emboldened, the child clambered onto the bedclothes to be closer to her mother.

The smile died on the elf-woman's lips. For a moment, the elfling feared the tears would come.

"Where shall I start?" The smile returned to her mother. There was a wistful look in her green eyes as she spoke, as if she were looking into another time and space.

"Who are those who came before me, can you tell me please?"

"Ah, you wish to know about your brothers. The first is Maitimo. He is tall and has red hair, like your grandfather..."

"Does he have a beard like grandfather?"

"Nay, he's too young to have a beard. Moreover, beards are rare among our kind… Maitimo always watches out for his younger brothers… He would have helped take care of you too."

"I can take care of myself. Just ask grandfather," the elfling pouted. Her mother laughed softly.

"Indeed you can. Next was Makalaure. He is not as tall as Maitimo and his hair is dark. He used to play his harp and sing at the king's grand banquets. He is skilled on the harp and lute and had a golden voice…"

"Does he still sing for the king in the palace?"

"I should think not. It was the old king for whom he sang…"

"The one they say was killed when the Darkness came? Amme?" The tears came quickly now.

"I am weary now and must rest. Go find your grandfather…" Obediently, the child wandered off.

_He had come to her then, after his father's death – a broken, hollow elf. She had comforted him the only way she could as his wife. After the twins they had not come together thus. In that new uncertain world lit only by the stars, they had lain together and in her arms she felt his spirit stir and reawaken. They did not know that a tiny spark of life had been created between them that dark night._

* * *

The elfling was ignored by most of the grownups. They worked hard and long. More lamps needed to be forged to light the city and the roads. Wood needed to be gathered to fuel the forges and homes for both warmth and light. New devices needed to be created to track time in this endless night. Her grandfather and the other master smiths have been called on by a lord who was greater and finer than any she had ever seen.

"Ah, Mahtan, what have we here? Already you have her in your forge, perhaps one day she'd be as proud a smith as her sire and brothers…" the lord had laughed and ruffled her hair as she sat toying with a piece of cast-off iron. She was not allowed to work with the tools and glowing metal yet.

"Forgive me, Lord Aule, we would rather she not. Seeing as to where her father's pride got us… Now, let's look at those plans for the parts you require of us for these vessels…"

Her grandfather and the best smiths left their city for Lord Aule's Mansions. Behind her grandmother's skirts, she bade them farewell at the door. Her mother was awake when she slipped into her room after dinner.

"Please tell me some more about my brothers," the elfling wheedled. Her mother smiled and beckoned her to come closer. Her voice was not as strong as it once was.

"After Maitimo and Makalaure is Tyelkormo. He has fair hair like your grandmother and Aunt Laureven. He is a bit wild and quick to temper. He likes the woods and has a soft spot for animals. He has a large wolfhound from Lord Orome…"

"Is it as big as grandfather's hounds?"

"Nay, he was much larger. Huan is as big as a small horse. Your brother used to ride on his back when hunting. Carnistir is another one with a quick temper, although he is loyal to a fault. He used to help me about the house… See this blue patchwork cushion? Carnistir made it for his little brother Curufinwe…"

The elf-woman let her voice trail off as she traced the worn stitches. Carnistir had mended it more than once. Maitimo gave it to Huan for a chew-toy once to keep him from devouring their dinner. Tyelkormo used it as a target for his spear practice to rile his little brother Curufinwe. The twins tore it apart during a game of tug-of-war as infants. Each time Carnistir would fly into a rage. When his temper cooled, he would patiently set about his repairs with needle and thread.

"Amme?" her daughter asked as her tiny fingers traced the designs alongside her mother's. Tears were falling on the faded cloth.

"Go to bed. It is late…"

The little girl gave her mother a peck on the cheek before hastening off to her own little cot. The flagstones of the hallway were punishing on bare feet. The fire had all but gone out in the hearth. There was not enough wood to keep it going.

The elfling crawled under the large kitchen table where the hounds were huddled together for warmth. Hounds were barred from the forge where the fire still burned. The apprentices still minded the forge in their mentor's absence. Yawning, the child snuggled up against the mass of coarse fur and wet noses. The dogs sniffed in surprise at the newcomer but soon accepted her among them.

* * *

"Who is Curufinwe? The others will not tell…" the elfling asked as she looked up from the cushion she had been learning to sew on. She was older now, old enough to help about the house and sweep up at the workshop, but still not old enough to be told. Grandfather and the others had not yet returned. Her grandmother dropped the plate she had been washing.

"Here, take this to your mother and make sure she finishes it…" A cup of scalding tea was thrust into her small hands. She carefully made her way into the hall. Elf-hearing was sharp, more so the hearing of a curious child.

"Do you suppose she asks about her atar? How could she know?" the old nis who worked in the kitchens whispered.

"Those gossipy neri in the workshop no doubt. Perhaps they meant her brother … the one who takes after his father," her aunt snorted in disdain.

Her amil was awake. The tea was too hot to be drunk quickly. The elfling sat on the edge of the bed, her bare feet dangling above the cold floor, watching her take sip after dainty sip.

"Is Curufinwe my brother?" she asked innocently.

"Aye, he is your fifth brother. You look much like him at your age…" her mother cupped a baby cheek.

"Is he the one they say worked at the forge?"

"Aye, he has the most talent as a smith and craftsman among his brothers. Only Makalaure's gift of song matches his talent as an artisan. You should see the fine pieces he turned out from his workshop, like that lamp…" the nis sipped at her tea.

"Are those all of my brothers?"

"Nay, there are two others… The Ambarussa… they are twins, with the same red hair and identical faces… Like their older brother Tyelkormo, they liked hunting in the wilds. Full of mischief they are…They were too young, far too young to have followed him in taking that Oath…"

"Him, amme? You mean atar? What is an Oath?"

The elf-woman did not speak. Tears glistened in her eyes.

"Tell me, please… Amme…" her daughter pleaded.

"Look out the window…" the mother urged. A pale vessel was rising from the west, bathing the land in silvery light.

"That is the light of Telperion, my child. We never thought we would see it again," Nerdenal put down her tea and watched her youngest child marvel at the new source of light in the sky. The few children who had been born after the Darkening only knew starlight in the sky above, until now.

"Who is Telperion?"

"It's a Tree, one of two which once graced this fair land… Let me tell you about Telperion and Laurelin…" Of course none of her kin had spoken to the child yet of the Light they had lost. She would tell her child about the Trees of Light, but leave the tale unfinished.

"What happened to the trees, Amme? Why did my brothers leave?"

"Sorry, little one, I am tired and must rest… another time perhaps…"

She will not speak of Feanaro or his Oath yet. Not to one so young.

She had almost lost this little one in her grief and sorrow. She had tried to bury her hurt and sorrow through her work at the forge. She had not known the new life within her existed until her father realised her apron was too snug on her frame. Few elflings were born after the Darkening. The grief and horror at losing the Light of the Trees affected all mothers-to-be and many miscarried. More elflings came too soon or too weak to survive. Her daughter was dearly bought. She had poured all the strength she could into her unborn child to ensure her survival.

She would leave for Lorien soon to heal. Her parents and siblings would care for her little one in her absence. It is almost a shame if her daughter were to lose her mother, having never known her father and most likely never will.

**Notes: **

This is AU. Some events might diverge from canon.


	2. Strangers in the Wild

Olorin and Aiwendil meet an elfling.

**2. Strangers in the Wild**

Amme had gone away to heal in a distant place, the grownups explained. She will see her amil again once she is well. Life continued on at the forge with Mahtan's return, as it had ever since Mahtan first lit its fires. The youngest of his grandchildren helped out with the household chores. There was a small copse of trees beside a stream which ran behind the smithies. She would go there after her chores were done and lie down in the small glade nestled within. It was far enough for the noise from the forge not to scare the birds which nested over her head. The elfling was old enough to venture alone beyond the yard unattended, so long as she returned before dinner.

Sunlight bathed the elfling as she lay on the fragrant grass. _Laurelin's light,_ her grandmother had called it. It was brighter than Teleperion's flower, now called Isil. Her grandfather Mahtan had explained. The last fruit of Laurelin and the final flower of Telperion, ferried across the sky in two vessels Lord Aule and his smiths have crafted. The Vanyar called the new fiery orb Anar. It was warm, like the fires in the forge. If she stayed out in it too long, she would burn too, especially when the fiery orb is high in the sky above.

The trees and flowers which had slept during the darkness were now blossoming with new growth. The birds and other creatures of the woods were also waking from the sleep into which Yavanna had put them into for their protection.

The child giggled as a butterfly landed on her nose. Everything was new to her. The other day her aunt brought a basket of strange green things into the kitchen. They were sweet and crisp when eaten, unlike the mushy oatmeal and root vegetables they had been living on. They were called peas.

"Greetings, little one," a voice called out. The elfling sat up and gaped at the tall elves before her. They reminded her of the fine lord who had hired the smiths to help craft the vessels. One was tall and stately in his grey robes. The other was shorter and his brown robes were coarse and worn.

"G-greetings, sirs…" she stammered, suddenly shy. The strangers laughed.

"Are you listening to the birds, little one?" Aiwendil held up his finger and a thrush alit upon it. He chirruped to the bird and the bird cocked its head listening before singing a reply.

"You talk to birds? What did it say?" the elfling asked.

"Oh, something about a little elfling who likes to hide here when there are chores to be done."

"Aiwendil, stop teasing the child. Our feathered friend is telling us about his little wife and the eggs she is brooding," Olorin stroked the thrush gently on the neck with a finger before the bird flitted back into the branches. "There will be three more little thrushes singing in this tree soon."

"I am Olorin, and this is my good friend Aiwendil. What is your name, little one?" Olorin introduced himself with a bow. With a flourish, he produced a small posy of white flowers from his sleeve and offered it to the child.

"M-Mornel… Thank you, sir…" Mornel took the flowers from Olorin. They smelled of fresh mountain air and springtime.

"Do you wish to speak with the birds, Mornel?" Olorin asked.

"C-can I?"

"Nay, the little one already has enough speaking Quenya, what more the tongue of birds?" the other Maia protested. Olorin only nodded.

"Come on, we'll teach you."

* * *

The elfling learnt fast from the Maiar's daily visits to the copse of trees. Within the sennight, she was chatting with the thrushes, robins and sparrows which nest in her little glade. It took a bit longer to speak with the ravens for they were proud birds with little time for a mere elfling. Finally one old raven agreed to speak with the elfling on the condition she brought a bit of cheese or bacon for him whenever she came.

"Please, Master Raven. Can you tell me anything about my father and brothers?" Mornel asked one day. The old bird cocked his head to the side and peered at the child with a beady eye. "He used to work here with Grandfather Mahtan while he was courting my amil…"

"Arck. Knew your father. You have the same strong chin and black hair. Same grey eyes too, but his were brighter. We don't see that sort of light in the eyes of the young ones born now. Proud one he was. Gave his students hell if they don't meet his standards. Caught the Light of the Trees in his pretty gems and locked them away in Formenos."

"Where is Formenos?"

"Somewhere up north. Never been there myself but I heard from a cousin who heard from an eagle… More cheese?" the old raven cawed.

Mornel fed the bird more cheese from the palm of her hand. "Please, tell me about my brothers…"

"Your brother Tyelkormo talked to birds too, but he is an ill-mannered ner. He liked hunting, always tearing about the woods on his hound. Sometimes Carnistir and Curufinwe will join him. The little red-haired twins always hunt together. Maitimo rides with his cousin Findekano, but they don't really hunt that much. More sightseeing, waste of time I say. Makalaure does not hunt, but his voice can turn those silly warblers green with envy."

"I wish they did not have to go…" Mornel brushed a tear from her eye.

"Chin up, princess," the raven cawed. "Better here than over the sea. Who would give this old bird his cheese and ham?"

"I am no princess," the elfling replied as she offered the last of her cheese to the raven.

"Brave princess, don't cry," the bird nibbled on a lock of the elfling's hair. Despite her age and gender, Mornel wore her hair cropped as short as a very small elfling or a young ner. Short hair was easier to manage around the house and forge. The grownups kept their hair long but tied up in braids or under headscarves.

Unseen by bird and elf, Yavanna and Orome watched the exchange.

_Feanaro's daughter. Where is her amil? _

_At Lorien healing. Her grandparents are quite overwhelmed as they are. Feanaro's words have convinced a good many of Mahtan's kin to follow him and many a forge lies cold. _Yavanna placed a hand on the trunk of a hazel and the tree bloomed with fluffy catkins.

_Does Arafinwe know about her? It is unseemly to have Finwe's granddaughter sweeping floors. _

_He's just as overwhelmed as any other Noldo. Now that you mention it, it is unbecoming that she is not afforded the education given to her brothers and cousins. _Yavanna frowned. Her husband Aule had mentioned the child in passing to her. He had assumed that Mahtan would teach her to forge metal like he did for her father. Aule valued practical apprenticeship over academic scholarship any day. Her brothers had undergone their stint in the forge with only Maitimo and Curufinwe showing any aptitude for the craft.

Mahtan had not taught her even the basics of smith-work, content to let her sit in the forge or carry out household chores. Aiwendil had mentioned in passing that the child had scarcely any knowledge of the written word, a horrible oversight in her upbringing. True, it was important to save wood to be used for the forge and warmth during the time of the Darkening. Olorin had found that out when he brought a book on rare birds for the child. She was fascinated by the pictures within but ignored the accompanying rhymes. She managed to write out her own name in the dirt, after much instruction from Olorin. Even Yavanna could see a child her age should be in the schoolroom learning her letters. Of course, Aiwendil had not seen it that way.

_There might be a reason for her kin to shield her. She is Feanaro's daughter. And still a child. _Vana murmured. The Valar had not seen her approach.

_She will find out eventually. Perhaps it is time Lord Manwe has a word with Arafinwe. _Orome shrugged. The Calaquendi had always held the education of their offspring in high regard. Even the lowliest servant would ensure their children were sent to the local schoolroom. Finwe had created a public school in Tirion where elflings were taught their letters, lore and arithmetic. Most would then leave for apprenticeship in their chosen craft under the masters.

The nobles were able to enlist private tutors for their children. The best loremasters taught the royal children in Tirion. Some of Feanaro's sons did not complete the syllabus drawn up by Master Rumil. Tyelkormo and the twins were stifled in the schoolroom and would often disappear into the woods to avoid their lessons. Curufinwe dropped out midway through to be apprenticed at his father's forge. Carnistir and Maitimo managed to drag themselves through their lessons but their fosterings at the Vanyarin and Telerin courts did not work out. Maitimo got into a romantic entanglement with a Teleri nis who was already betrothed to another while Carnistir came home in disgrace after fighting with the son of King Ingwe. Only Makalaure had truly thrived under the rigid royal syllabus but he was no leader. He was content to play the role of minstrel.

Oblivious to the Valar nearby, the elfling waved farewell to her avian companion and started to hum a little melody. She bent to pick the flowers which were in full bloom. A posy of flowers for the table always sweetened Grandmother's mood. Her grandmother would be upset over the grass stains on her frock. It was getting too tight and short for her now but no one had time to make her a new one just yet. She would have to wipe the grass and dirt off her bare feet before going into the kitchen. Grandfather had promised her a pair of shoes from the market the next time he went, so that she need not go about barefoot. Perhaps they would be soft and red just like Grandmother's slippers. Or they could be dark leather like her grandfather's boots.

She would take the flowers to Grandmother before nipping into the forge to see it needed to be swept again. Bath - a bucket of cold water, soap and a towel - came before sitting down to dinner. After dinner she would help scrub the pans before retiring to her cot. The household nissi rose early to draw water, light the fires and cook, well before sunrise, for the Valar had decreed that time be divided into days and nights. Arien will steer her vessel across the sky into the west and disappear from the sky for the time between dusk and dawn before rising in the east.

It was a comfortable rustic rhythm the elfling's life took in her grandparents' home. Little could she guess that her life was about to change.


	3. The White City

Not exactly a good start to her life in Tirion. More Finwion style family dysfunction ahead. The Valar should have let things be.

**3. The White City**

At Lord Manwe's suggestion, Arafinwe had written to Mahtan with regards to the guardianship and education of Mornel. The grandparents were glad that the House of Finwe acknowledged their little Mornel as one of theirs. Her royal uncle could provide for her far better than any smithy.

Olorin knew they had messed things up on a large scale. Of course the little maid would be terrified by the armoured guards which showed up to take her to Tirion. The guards were ceremonial of course but the elfling did not know that. By some quirk of fate, the convoy had arrived at the house some hours before Arien passed through the Gates of Morning, which explained the grim looks a bit. The other unfortunate reason being that Arafinwe had chosen neri who had children, siblings or parents under the Doom and were none too keen about escorting one of Feanaro's bloodline. Well, to be fair, every Noldor household in Tirion had someone under the Doom.

There was the Noldor tradition to present the elfling to the populace of Tirion as a member of the royal House. Normally this would be a week-long event with royal envoys and gifts from the Teleri and Vanyar. There would be feasting and merrymaking galore. It normally occurred on the child's twelfth begetting day, an age where most elflings were content to drowse in the arms of their adoring parents. They would have been accustomed to the guards, living in the shadow of the palace. Arafinwe probably wanted the entire thing over before his citizens were awake enough to get rowdy.

A good deal of crying, begging and fussing later, Mahtan managed to persuade his granddaughter to join Olorin in the coach. There was a mad scramble by the nissi to pack a light meal and the elfling's few belongings. The escort was not expected that soon. Olorin was thankful Lady Vaire had provided Mornel with a tastefully embroidered tunic in lieu of one with the eight-pointed Star of her House. They were not expecting any cheers but it might make a good impression on her relations instead of turning up in one of her old dresses.

"Grandfather says I'm to go to Tirion to live with my uncle, the king, and learn to be a princess… because Lord Manwe says so…" Mornel sniffled.

"Tirion's a lovely city, all white marble and…" Olorin ventured.

"I don't want to leave Grandfather, or the forge, or the trees…"

"There, there, I am sure your uncle would let you visit your grandparents. Your amil will go live with you in Tirion when she recovers. Your parents had a house in the city near the smithies," the Maia wiped a tear from the elfling's cheek.

"My amil and atar lived in Tirion?" Mornel managed a weak smile, her interest piqued. "Can you tell me about the house, please?"

"Well, it was a fair-sized dwelling but your amil and atar used much of the space for their workshops…" For an hour or so, Olorin entertained his fellow passenger with anecdotes of everyday life in Tirion before the Darkening.

"W-what is Uncle Arafinwe like?" Mornel asked in a hushed tone when the tower of Tirion came into view. The elfling was fearful of what lay ahead.

"Your uncle is kindly and mild of temper. One would say he is the opposite of your atar Curufinwe Feanaro. Don't worry. He will take good care of you…"

"That's what Grandfather said…" Mornel slipped her tiny hand into the Maia's.

* * *

The first rays of dawn painted the walls of the city a fiery orange as the procession entered the city gates. The silence struck even Olorin, who knew how few of the Noldor remained in Valinor. A tired nis beat a rug outside her house before retreating within as the procession approached. A small elfling chased a puppy down an alleyway. In the Great Square, the few remaining members of the House of Finwe and a much-diminished court awaited. Weary-looking guards milled about aimlessly.

Olorin gave his companion's hand a reassuring squeeze. It was time to meet her family. Currently, the Finweans did not look very welcoming. Lady Findis had a decidedly sour look on her face and her foot tapped impatiently on the flagstones. Lady Anaire's face was as dark as a storm cloud. King Arafinwe had a forced smile on his face as he welcomed his niece, but he avoided meeting her eyes.

"Welcome to Tirion, Lord Olorin. Welcome to your home, er…"

"Her name is Mornel," Olorin volunteered as the elfling managed a shy curtsy. The Maia had given her a crash course in basic court manners between the city gate and the Square.

"Father-name or mother-name?" the crotchety scribe Rumil queried as his quill scraped on his tablet.

"Mother-name. Her atar was not around to bestow a name and tradition gives the honour of naming the child in such cases to her father's closest kin," Olorin smiled meaningfully at the king. Arafinwe coughed uncomfortably, clearly wishing he were elsewhere. If he were to name the child, it would be taken a sign of his acceptance of her into the family, something many were not quite ready for yet.

"I am sure that matter can wait, brother," Findis answered curtly. Anaire had turned her back on the entire charade and was walking in the direction of the house she once shared with her husband.

The remainder of the party climbed up to the terrace overlooking the Square. Praises to the Valar were sung on behalf of the House of Finwe by the minstrels and loremasters.

"Citizens of Tirion, we present Lady Mornel of the House of Finwe through the House of Feanaro… "

The King of the Noldor started on the traditional speech meant to extol the virtues of the royal child's parents. He froze upon realizing he was orating to an empty plaza. The people of Tirion were not keen of welcoming a child of Feanaro into their city and had made their displeasure known.

"Let us get out of the cold…" he muttered and dismissed his guards with a wave of his hand. Mornel had struck up a conversation with a saucy young sparrow which nested under the lip of the terrace's parapet and was blissfully unaware her family had been snubbed by their subjects.

"Come along now, little one," Olorin coaxed. He wished he could stay until the elfling was properly settled in but his other duties called. It would have been prudent for someone from Mahtan's household to accompany Mornel during these early days but the smith's household simply could not spare anyone. It will be a bewildering and confusing time for the child indeed.

"Don't dawdle so…" Lady Findis snapped as she took the elfling by the arm and led her away.

* * *

A nurse was assigned to her, a nis who had overseen the care of Arafinwe's own daughter. Nixelle took one look at the patched, worn garments Mornel brought with her and declared every single one should be burned save the one she wore. Artanis' old clothes chest was tossed for suitable garments until a tailor could be sent for.

"Ai, you are a plain one. Perhaps we can do something when your hair grows out…" the nurse muttered.

She knew she ought to be kind to the child, who was innocent of father's sins. It would be difficult, for she was Teleri through her mother and the Kinslaying still rankled. Nixelle could not help comparing her charges. Artanis was a beautiful child, regal and proud, with the most unusual gold-silver tresses. Mornel was a quiet, shy slip of a thing. She did not have her atar's insufferable haughtiness although she had inherited his colouring. The child's eyes lacked the light of those born before the Darkening. Her grey eyes reminded Nixelle of the very old elves born at Cuivienen and on the Great Journey when the light of the stars was all the light they knew.

Nixelle sighed. She would carry out her duties, ensure the child was fed and clothed but it was too much to expect her to love the fey creature the same way she had mothered Artanis.

* * *

Her room was too large and cold. It seemed to Mornel that her grandfather's entire forge could have fitted in her new bed chamber. She had been shown the way to the royal baths for a quick wash to remove the dust of her journey before breakfast. For now she would take her meals in her rooms. Tomorrow she will be shown to the schoolroom where she will take her lessons. Her nurse instructed her not to wander about before taking an armful of clothes for altering and leaving her unattended in the room.

The elfling studied the tapestries and the furnishings of her room. They were beautiful but had little character of their own. She had been given a guestroom for her quarters, an anonymous room fit for a visiting lord or lady. Not the best ones in the palace with the open balconies overlooking the gardens though.

Mornel was used to sitting still and quiet but she soon grew curious and restless as the hours passed. _What're in the other rooms? Where's the kitchen? Did they have trees, flowers and running brooks? _Surely a tiny peek would not hurt. She did need the privy after all and that was down the corridor…

Mornel was disappointed to find the most of the rooms along the hall much like hers, although with the furniture draped with sheets and the windows shuttered. Finally she came to the end of the corridor where a narrow door opened to a dim-lit flight of stairs. Her inquisitiveness won out and she followed the stairs up to what seemed to be an attic for stowing unused furnishings.

She was greeted by a humble loom, the faded rags of an unfinished tapestry on it. Mornel felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. There was an eerie aura of sorrow about the forgotten loom. The elfling leapt as a gust of wind blew the door shut behind her with a resounding bang.

She tried it but it was jammed. She was trapped in the attic unless she could find another exit. She navigated the maze of dusty furniture, chests and rolled up carpets until she came to a door which opened to another flight of stairs leading down.

She was in a different part of the house now. Mornel could see it from the portraits and tapestries along the corridor. They were more personal and intimate. Here a homely portrait of fair-haired boys at play. There a seascape rendered in silk. She paused before an oaken door behind which voices emitted.

"_Ara, I know it is the Valar's wishes but surely…" _

"_Findis, I do not know anything about raising children alone, without Earwen… much less Feanaro's daughter… Ai… but we cannot defy Lord Manwe…"_

"_I never had any elflings, Ara. So don't ask me. She was doing well enough with Mahtan. Master Rumil can teach her letters and lore. Nixelle can handle her everyday needs. As for court etiquette, Anaire's not agreeable. I must leave… Perhaps we can get Amarie…"_

Mornel silently crept away and ran down the corridor. She had heard quite enough. She must return…

The next moment, her breath was taken away by the most beautiful tapestry she had ever seen. The sprawling needlework depicted the first elves awaking at Cuivienen under the stars, then the menacing creatures of Darkness harassing them. Finally a rider on a mighty steed led the elves to the west, where the Two Trees stood stitched in gold and silver thread. Not all of the elves completed the journey. She could see the tiny figures of the elves that remained behind, hidden in caves or surrounded by trees.

For a long while she stared mesmerized by the tapestry.

"The Awakening of the Eldar and the Great Journey," a soft male voice said from behind her. A hand rested reassuringly on her shoulder. Slowly Mornel turned and sucked in a breath with surprise. It was the king. He was gazing at the tapestry. She could see the weariness about his face. Arafinwe had changed out of his heavy formal robes for a casual tunic.

"Y-your Majesty…"

"Uncle will do. This tapestry was done by your grandmother Miriel Serinde. I trust you know the story of how our people came to Valinor?"

"Amme told me."

"Did your amil ever speak to you of your brothers, or your atar?"

"She spoke to me of my brothers, but never of my atar."

"Come along now, we will tell Nixelle you are to join us in the parlour for the midday meal."

It was too easy to pretend she was Artanis, or any one of his elflings when they were very young, how easily her hand slipped into his. So long as Arafinwe avoided looking at her and seeing the shadow of her father's features on her young face.

**Notes: **

We probably can guess who that old loom belonged to.


	4. First Impressions

Mornel takes her first meal with her new guardians and starts her formal education under Master Rumil.

**4. First Impressions**

The diners helped themselves from the pitcher of cider and trays of bread, cheese and ham, pickles and fruit as they saw fit. Arafinwe had dismissed Nixelle and a haughty-looking ner from the parlour before the start of the meal, requesting a private meal with his sister and niece. The adults barely picked at their food unlike Mornel, who was ravenous from her morning's explorations. There was little in the way of conversation.

It was an awkward lunch, Mornel would reflect later in the quiet of her room. However, it had given her more than ample opportunities to make her first impressions of her aunt and uncle. Lady Findis was a stern-looking nis like her Aunt Laureven, tall and fair of face, but her hair was dark. Uncle Arafinwe was fair-haired but his expression was as sombre as hers.

It was Findis who broke the silence first, to admonish her niece when Mornel reached to take a piece of cheese. "Use the serving fork, not your hands. No, not the one you eat with…" Flustered, Mornel stuttered an apology.

"I don't suppose Mahtan or Nerdanel used serving cutlery at their home…" Arafinwe murmured as he took the serving fork and deposited several bite-sized cubes of cheese on Mornel's plate. The elfling whispered her thanks.

For a while the grownups made small talk about the weather and the coming harvest. They had quite forgotten about the little elfling with them.

"Ara, you can't possibly put this off…"

"Put what off?"

"Mending your marriage with Earwen. I hear from Anaire that you have not visited her since she returned to her father's during the Darkening."

"Findis, you were there. She refused to see me the last time I was in Aqualonde… Enough of me, how's Amme?"

"The same. Uncle Ingwe has kept her rooms in his palace and she has moved back in as if she never left. She misses you though."

"You know I can't just leave the city. Send her my love when you go back to Tantiquetil."

"Amme is concerned about you and Earwen. She feels it is not proper or healthy that you continue to live as you do, for the sake of your children."

"Our children are gone under the Doom. After what our dear brother Feanaro did to her people, who can blame her for wanting nothing to do with me?"

"W-what did atar do?" Mornel asked meekly. The siblings gasped as if suddenly aware they were not alone.

"Your atar…" Findis took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. Arafinwe forestalled her.

"No, not now, Findis. Mornel, have you had enough to eat?" Arafinwe forced a smile. _No sense alarming the child with those dark deeds. _When the elfling cautiously nodded, the king rang for her nurse to take her back to her room.

* * *

Mornel rubbed her ear where an exasperated Nixelle had tweaked it after she had to search the guest wing for her charge before the child's lessons. She was not to go wandering about the palace. She was not to venture onto the roof outside her window, never mind the family of chatty starlings there. She had taken both her supper and breakfast in her room under Nixelle's watchful eye. It was when Nixelle took away the breakfast tray that she slipped out hoping to find more of those beautiful tapestries by Grandmother Miriel. She only got as far as the floor below before running into her nurse.

The schoolroom was bright and airy. It smelled faintly of ink and parchments. Sunlight poured in through a clear glass window and skylight. Nixelle hastily apologized to the dour elf behind the desk before sitting Mornel at a smaller desk facing Master Rumil.

"Well, we have lost half the morning already. So let us get the introductions done with. I am Rumil, loremaster and tutor of the House of… Mornel! Pay attention here!" Rumil snapped. His student was looking out the window and cooing at a flock of doves.

"S-sorry… I was asking the doves about their…"

"Never mind the birds…" the long-suffering tutor felt the beginnings of a headache coming on.

Master Rumil was no stranger to wayward students, especially those of Feanaro's line. The boy who talked to birds, Tyelkormo, had once put a live porcupine under Rumil's desk in place of his usual footstool. The tutor's soft slippers were little protection against the quills.

Feanaro's boys were a bad influence on Nolofinwe's brood, Irisse in particular. The young nis had put a weasel into Rumil's top drawer. Instead of his favourite humbugs, the poor ner had an angry weasel gnawing on his hand. To cap things off, the beast scampered up his voluminous sleeve into his robe and left its dental impressions on more delicate bits of his anatomy.

Arafinwe's children were more dreamers than pranksters. They had spent the earlier part of their education in Aqualonde under their grandfather Olwe. Artanis was exceptionally prone to daydreaming. As soon as Master Rumil started his lecture, her eyes would take on a glazed look as if deep in reverie. Often her brothers had to nudge her awake.

"Now, I understand that you have yet to master the alphabet. So let's start…" Rumil droned on.

His current student was older than most elflings when they were first introduced to the written word. During the Great Journey, he had created the first writing system. The younger elflings picked up the system quickly, their older siblings and parents less readily. Finwe took forever to finally master the runes. Rumours had it that the oldest Vanyar elves like Imin refused to have anything to do with reading or writing. Of course, Ingwe would never admit that of his people. The Teleri found that the runes did not adequately express the colour of their tongue. A valid concern as Rumil later found that the Teleri dialect differed from the standard Quenya used by the Vanyar and Noldor.

Rumil looked up from his work to see his student struggling with her chalk and slate. He had assigned a writing practice so that he could get back to the annals he had been writing. At a glance it was hard to tell Mornel's gender with her cropped hair and the shapeless smock her nurse had put her in. It was probably one of Artanis', taken in at the hems and waist. Mornel was small for her age. She will never tower over him as Nelyafinwe and Turukano did by the time they were adolescents.

The child chewed on a corner of her lip as she concentrated on forming the letters. For a moment, the loremaster was reminded of another young elf.

"_Go out, get some air… join your family on their picnic…" Rumil smiled indulgently at his star pupil. _

"_I don't want to," Feanaro replied as he continued putting quill to parchment. "It could be better… It can be improved…" _

"_What be improved?" _

"_Our writing system of course…" Within a decade of their conversation, a proud Feanaro presented his new Tengwar script before his father's court. Finwe was so impressed he made the new system the official system for all records in the realm of the Noldor. _

The new system took off rapidly across Aman. The older texts were translated to the new writing. Now few documents existed in the older writing, even in the vast archives of Tirion which he oversaw. In some part of his heart, Rumil resented his student rendering his greatest achievement irrelevant.

Of course, Feanaro's attitude as a father about his sons' conduct in the schoolroom left much to be desired. He did little in the way of reining in the wildest of his brood. "Boys will be boys," he had chuckled when his former master complained about the latest prank suffered. Sensible Nelyafinwe and mild-mannered Kanafinwe tried to set a good example, but they were no match for their younger siblings and Nolofinwion cousins. Findekano and Turukano did settle down eventually, but Arakano and Irisse continued to be wild and unmanageable into their late adolescence.

_Meek. Too meek._ There was none of her brothers' wildness in Mornel. She seemed to have her atar's stubborn intensity when confronted with a task. Satisfied with her work, she finally put down both chalk and slate.

"Hm, you need more practice. The curve here is too high and this rune is not correctly written…" Rumil proceeded to point out the mistakes in the script. Hopefully, he would be able to teach this elfling with no fear of being ambushed by weasels or porcupines.

* * *

It would be two weeks before Arafinwe found time to speak with Rumil over his niece's schooling.

"Any porcupines or weasels, Master Rumil?" The pranks the grandchildren of Finwe subjected poor Rumil to have gone down in Tirion legend.

"No pranks or such… but I fear…" the old loremaster paused. "She is quiet one. Perhaps she started schooling too late… it would appear she is a little, well, simple…"

"Simple, how so?" Arafinwe's brow furrowed with concern. They had seen it with the few surviving elflings born during the Darkening. Healers claimed it was a result of the upheaval their mothers were subjected to. They developed slower, both mentally and physically. Save for Mornel, they were sent to Lorien by their parents where they still lingered.

Even now in the Years of the Sun, there were noticeable differences. The children born now lacked the same light in their eyes as their parents born in the Years of the Trees. Many claimed such elflings were slower and not as robust, even among the Vanyar who had dwelled closest to the Valar's Mansions.

"Well, she daydreams a lot…"

"You said the same of my Artanis."

"Forgive me, my lord. She speaks with birds…"

"As did Tyelkormo…"

"She would write a bit, read a bit, then fill her slate or book with doodles."

"Master Rumil! One might think you miss the weasels. She's acting like any other bored student."

"Bored? My lessons are never boring!" the loremaster protested. Arafinwe chanced to glance out the window and glimpsed his niece unattended in the palace rose garden, apparently having a discussion with a warbler. The elfling scampered up an orange tree to peer into the warbler's nest with delight.

_No, Mornel was not simple. A bit fey perhaps, expected given her lineage. _He had encountered her on occasion admiring the tapestries and paintings in the corridors before her nurse hurried her off to bed or the baths. Perhaps it was time for him to start dining with his niece instead of taking his meals in his office, as he had done since his sister left Tirion.

**Notes: **

Arafinwe is trying his best to act as the responsible guardian, despite having problems of his own to worry about. I have made the Feanorions and Nolofinwions as real terrors to poor Rumil. I picture him like one of those stern professors. As to Findis, I pictured her as a very prim and proper spinster aunt, gruff but she will warm up eventually.


	5. The House of Finwe

Uncle Arafinwe finally relents and tells Mornel a little of their family.

**5. The House of Finwe**

Dinner came to an abrupt end with the clatter of a dropped fork and a hysterical elfling fleeing the room. Up till Mornel's outburst, all had been peaceful. It took a while to coax Mornel out of her shell, but soon she was relating what she had learned in the schoolroom, her friends the birds and the book of little elflings' tales Lord Olorin sent, all with the same quiet enthusiasm as young Findarato had spoken of his music lessons. Arafinwe was glad to note that Mornel was not suffering from any homesickness and was eating heartily as any elfling her age should. He did not bother to correct her when she sucked the rich gravy off her fingertips. Findis would have had a fit. It had been the most innocent of comments which had set it off.

"Uncle, this meat pie is delicious. What is in it?"

"Why, this is Mistress Faniel's famous pigeon pie…" The elfling's eyes widened at his words and what little colour she had in her cheeks fled.

Arafinwe chided himself as he went after her. He should have been more aware. _Had the child not counted the inhabitants of the palace dovecote among her friends? _A major faux pas that was on par to serving swan to a Telerin elf. Earwen's people held the swan in high regard. Surely the kitchen elves would have noted her visits to the dovecote and her fondness for the birds there? He might have to speak with the cook tomorrow.

He found his niece retching in the privy, sobbing and shaking like a leaf. He rubbed her back in small circular motions as he did once for his Aikanaro when he took too much wine as a child and was sick from it.

"There, there… I will ask that pigeons not be served at our table again…" Arafinwe coaxed as he cleaned her face and hands. He wondered if he should extent the ban to chickens and other fowl. The child hiccupped and allowed the king to lead her back to the dining hall, where thankfully, the offending dishes have been cleared.

Mornel did not touch the berries and cream for her dessert. She rolled the fruits listlessly in the cream as her nurse watched on with disapproval. _Good elflings don't play with their food. _Arafinwe could recall his mother's voice chiding.

"Nixelle, we wish to sit up for a while. You will be sent for when Mornel's ready for bed." Nixelle dropped a curtsey before leaving them.

"How are you feeling?" Mornel did not shy away when he brushed a stray lock of dark hair from her face. He had gotten used to seeing the shadow of his half-brother in the child's vulnerable features. She could have been anyone's daughter, another elfling who should be protected and nurtured until she was old and wise enough to strike out on her own.

"B-better," Mornel whispered. "I should be going back to Nixelle now, Uncle…" She sounded so serious. She was still upset. Arafinwe ordered a soothing mug of warmed milk with honey to be brought to them in his study.

* * *

Lord Manwe had mentioned that it would be proper to tell his charge of her father's people. His sister's letter that morning reminded the king of the task he has yet to carry out. Findis also wrote that Miriel Serinde had returned from Mandos' Halls but had dedicated her immortal life to weaving in Vaire's Hall. His eldest sister was considering dedicating herself to Este's service as a healer in Lorien. Arafinwe did not know when or if his sister will return to the city. Many of the Eldar who chose to serve the Valar Irmo and Este remained in Lorien for centuries.

"Come, it is time for you to learn about our family," Arafinwe took his niece's hand in his and led her to his study. He found the scroll he was looking for and unrolled it on his table. He winced when he realised that the last time it was updated was when his first grandchild Artaresto was born.

Mornel's name had yet to be added to the family tree. The names of the wives of her brothers Makalaure, Carnistir and Curufinwe were also missing in accordance with some obscure custom among the old nobility which required common-born wives to be recorded only after they have provided their noble husbands with a child. Turukano wedded the daughter of a Vanyarin lord and Elenwe's name was added shortly after the binding rites. The same could be said for his law-daughter Eldalote, who still lived in the city with her parents. She had turned back with her law-father, sickened by the kinslaying. It was only upon arriving in Tirion that she realised her son was not with them.

Carnistir's wife still lived in Tirion. She was not too taken by her husband's decision to take the Oath and defy the Valar. Eyewitnesses claimed the couple had parted on harsh terms with Carnistir unceremoniously chased out of her workshop. Makalaure's wife was Telerin and she might still dwell in Aqualonde. It was unthinkable that she would have sailed with her husband on the blood of her slain kin. Curufinwe's followed him into Exile.

"N-Nerdanel…" the elfling's keen eyes alit on her mother's name. A pale finger traced the line to her father's name. "Curufinwe Feanaro…"

The finger traced up the tree. "Finwe, N-Noldoran… He is…" Wide grey eyes looked up at Arafinwe's bright blue ones. It was time to tell their story.

"Yes, your grandfather was King of the Noldor, Finwe, who led our people to Aman. He loved and married Miriel Serinde, your grandmother. Miriel was a skilled craftswoman, renowned for her weaving and needlework… You have seen her tapestries in the palace."

"Where are they? Grandfather Finwe and Grandmother Miriel?"

"They died and their fear went to Mandos."

"W-will we see them again?"

"Someday, perhaps…" Arafinwe doubted Miriel would want to be bothered at her work. Noldorin craftspeople were renowned for their dedication to their chosen craft. Feanaro and Nerdanel had left much of their little ones' care to Maitimo and Makalaure as soon as the boys were old enough. It was not uncommon to see the redhead holding a twin in each arm while Curufinwe and Carnistir ran circles about him. His parents would be tinkering away in their workshops.

"After Miriel went to Mandos…"

"How did she die?"

"Well, she got very tired after she had your father. Your grandfather took her to Lorien but she did not recover…"

"She went to Lorien to get better like my amil? W-will amme die too?" the elfling's lip quivered. Arafinwe pulled her into his arms for a reassuring hug.

"No, I don't think so… Your amil is strong and the Valar will help her heal." The king felt the child in his arms give a hesitant nod. Quickly, he continued.

"Your grandfather loved Miriel Serinde very much and missed her greatly. But she was too tired and died. She went to Mandos where she remained for a very long time. Finwe loved her and their son Feanaro, but he was very lonely…" Arafinwe paused as a serving nis brought Mornel her milk. He allowed the child to take a sip before continuing.

"So Finwe went to the Valar to ask that their bond be dissolved and he be allowed to take another wife." Arafinwe ruefully thought to himself that he sounded as if he were telling a bedtime story to his elflings, one to which they had no ties to. "Your grandfather had fallen in love with another nis, Indis of the Vanyar and sister to the High King." It felt odd speaking of his uncle and amil thus.

"The Valar agreed as Miriel had no desire to return from Mandos in her weariness. You must understand that just because Finwe loved Indis, he did not love your grandmother any less. He still loved his first wife." Arafinwe paused for breath before continuing. "Indis bore Finwe four children – your aunt Findis, my brother Nolofinwe and sister Lalwen, who followed your atar to the Hither Shores." _They might be in Mandos too. _Arafinwe left the words unspoken. The Helcaxre was a place of great peril. None knew the fates of those who had attempted the journey under Nolofinwe's banner.

Instead, the king cast his mind back to his childhood and the halcyon days of innocence he shared with his siblings. Family picnics, grand banquets and quiet hours spent in Indis' chambers listening to their mother sing.

"Do you miss them? Aunt Lalwen and Uncle Nolofinwe?"

Arafinwe nodded, for the words caught in his throat. He was vaguely aware of a small hand on his, a gesture of sympathy.

"Uncle, you never mentioned my atar in your stories…" the elfling on his lap yawned and rubbed her eyes. Arafinwe glanced at the clock. It was far later into the night than he expected. Nixelle must be furious. She had often rebuked Artanis and her brothers as elflings when they missed their bedtimes.

"Another night perhaps…" he rolled up the scroll and kept it away. The king took his niece back to her room where Nixelle was impatiently waiting.

* * *

_Master Rumil says I must keep a journal and practice my writing. This is the first day of the journal. The ravens told me Old Master Raven has died because he is too old and tired. They say his fea will pass through Mandos and beyond the circles of the world. I will miss him. They also say Grandmother Miriel has returned to life. Maybe I can go meet her. Uncle told me more stories from when he was little. He told me a bit about my brother Makalaure. My brother sang with our cousin Findarato for Grandfather Finwe at the Festival. I wish Uncle could tell me more about my atar. Uncle looks so sad when he tells me of my cousins. I wish…_

The elfling paused. She had finally mastered reading and writing, and multiplications. She had learnt by heart the lore of her people's awakening and their journey to Aman. She trembled at some of the dangers which menaced her forebears en route and wondered if her atar and brothers had to face the same hazards over the sea. Master Rumil was strict as a tutor but he was a very wise elf. She was also given a little harp and promised a music teacher. For now she took informal music lessons under her uncle whenever his duties allowed. Nixelle and the other servants kept their distance, leaving her to her own devices. Then there was Amarie.

Amarie was Vanya, a very pretty nis with long golden hair. Mornel was to learn the rules and protocols of the Noldorin court under her. There were so many but she has to master them all before she could be allowed to attend official functions with her uncle. There had been banquets held for visiting envoys and a few receptions. On such occasions, Mornel would dine in her room alone under the watchful eye of her nurse. Music. She might have to entertain the king's guests with songs, as her brother and her cousin Findarato had done. Amarie's eyes took on a faraway look when speaking of Findarato. Maybe Amarie loves Findarato.

_I wish he would smile more often, like when he teaches me on the harp and I do well. I like Amarie. She's like a big sister to me and it makes learning all the rules easier. I miss Grandfather Mahtan. Uncle says I can go stay with them for a sennight. He says I am still too young to travel alone so…_

She yawned and the quill slipped, blotting the page. She was tired.

"Sir! You cannot simply barge in…"

Mornel hurriedly put aside her quill. That gruff voice could only belong to…

"Nonsense, the king has given me permission. I am not leaving till I have seen her. How's my little Mornel?" the voice boomed. Mahtan strode into her room.

"Grandpa!" Mornel ran into his open arms and was hoisted up in a bear hug by the smith.

"How much you have grown!" the smith lifted his grandchild into the air and spun her around to excited squeals from the little girl. As she spun, her outstretched foot clipped a ceramic vase. It fell onto the floor with a crash. Nixelle shook her head in disapproval. At his age, Mahtan should not be behaving like an overgrown child. It was a mess she would have to clear quickly lest the elfling cut her bare feet on the shards.

"Oops…" Mahtan put Mornel down away from the broken shards and scratched his head awkwardly as he apologised.

**Notes:**

I am going with the version of Arafinwion genealogy which has Orodreth as a grandson instead of son of Finarfin so that I can have as his amil remaining in Aman as a possible source of information for Mornel in future chapters.


	6. The Golden Boy

Two old elves let their guards down around an elfling and speak of their top student.

**6. The Golden Boy**

Mahtan was spending a few days in the city for a guild meeting. Arafinwe has kindly offered him a room in the guest wing but the smith graciously turned down the offer. He had a number of apprentices housed at Smith's Arms and one should keep an eye on those imps lest they get into mischief. Instead, he was granted leave to visit his granddaughter during his stay.

One afternoon found both master smith Mahtan and loremaster Rumil on the terrace overlooking the rose gardens where Mornel was taking her lessons under Amarie. Today, the Vanyarin nis was teaching the elfling a simple court dance and the attendant protocols. There were rules a high-born nis had to observe at any reception, such as the upcoming festival. Judging from the giggles, Mornel was enjoying herself immensely. Amarie was a welcome change from the sombre nurse who was Mornel's primary caregiver in Tirion.

"Rumil, I trust my granddaughter has not been any trouble?" Mahtan took a swig from his wine skin.

"None at all, Mahtan…" the loremaster chuckled as he sipped at his wine. The weather was pleasant and the air sweet with the scent of roses and birdsong. "She is an earnest student, much like her atar…"

"Aye, you loved that boy like a son, don't you?" Mahtan murmured as he placed a calloused hand on the loremaster's slight shoulder. The shadow which drifted past the tutor's face did not go unnoticed by the smith. They had made the journey together so many yeni past. Rumil never married and his parents chose to remain behind as Avari. There was a brother who was taken by the Black Rider, just as Mahtan's own parents and a sister was lost. Despite their differing interests, the neri shared a bond in their common loss.

"She lacks his brilliance, and thankfully, his pride and temper," Rumil smiled ruefully. "I doubt I will ever see a student the likes of Feanaro. He rendered my best work outdated with his Tengwar script."

"Perhaps that is the way of things - the student besting his master… We taught him all that we knew of our crafts. He swept my little Nerdanel off her feet with a week of his apprenticeship…"

"I was surprised you didn't send him back…"

"And risk Nerdanel's wrath and tears? They were so young then. They had some foolish idea about running off into the woods together…"

"Young love…" Rumil grinned. "They were the talk of Tirion when they wed." The scandal it had caused was immense. Both parties were barely into their majority. Feanaro was Crown Prince but his beloved was common-born. Mahtan was no nobleman. "Curufinwe managed to sway the entire court with his impassionate speech… He always had a way with words…" Rumil said wistfully.

"You taught him how, my friend."

"And you taught him how to craft metal and gems…"

"The Silmarilli… I wish he had not crafted those stones…"

"What did my father craft?" a tiny voice piped. Mahtan dropped his wine skin. Mornel stared curiously at her elders with her grey eyes. The elfling had climbed onto the terrace. In the garden below, Amarie was speaking with Arafinwe and thus distracted from her charge. Rumil exchanged looks with Mahtan. They would have to tell her eventually.

"Curufinwe Feanaro, your father was the best student I ever taught. Do you know he created the Tengwar script we all now use?"

"Atar created writing?"

"Not quite," Mahtan corrected. "It was Master Rumil who created the first form of writing for the Quendi."

"Really? But we only used the Tengwar script in the books I read."

"Aye, because your atar's system suited our tongue and the Teleri dialects better. He took what he learned and improved on it," Rumil's voice was touched with pride as he spoke of his student. "I have a small portrait of him hanging in my quarters. We should find a place for it in the schoolroom, eh?"

The elfling nodded eagerly. She had not seen any portraits of her father in the palace in all her wanderings. She had seen her grandparents' portraits, Miriel and Finwe. There were family portraits of Finwe and Grandmother Indis with their elflings. Uncle Arafinwe had decorated his rooms with beautiful portraits of his wife and children. There were even a few of his many nephews and niece Irisse, but never had Mornel seen a likeness of her father within the palace.

"I wish I were as clever as he…" Mornel whispered in awe.

"You are young still, child. There is much time for you to grow," Mahtan patted her head with a calloused hand. "And most of your brothers and cousins weren't into book-learning… Tell her about the skunk, Rumil."

The loremaster rolled his eyes. Mahtan should not be giving Mornel ideas for pranks. Hesitantly, he related the episode when the Ambarussa trapped him in a closet with a skunk so that they could run off to the market fair instead of learning algebra. That was also the day of the Loremasters' Annual Banquet.

"Poor Master Rumil, did you get rid of the smell in time for the banquet?"

"Alas, no. I had to burn the robe I was wearing and spend the night steeping in the bath to get rid of the smell. On the bright side, it was the first time I had the common baths all to myself," the loremaster grinned at the memory of the guards, stable-lads and menservants of the palace fleeing the normally-packed baths when he strolled in that night.

"Grandfather, what are the Silmarilli?"

"Your atar's masterpiece…" the words slipped out of Mahtan in an unguarded moment before Rumil dug a bony elbow into his side and he clammed up.

"Those gems Old Master Raven told me about - the ones with the Light of the Trees? The same ones he took to north to Formenos? Please, Grandfather, please tell me more about them…" the elfling tugged at his sleeve gently. The smith only shook his head. _Not now, not yet. _

Mornel pleaded with her eyes, her tiny fingers gripping at the coarse cloth of Mahtan's sleeve. Thankfully, Amarie came up the stairs to the terrace.

"Mornel! There you are. Come, child, the dressmaker is here to measure you for a dress…"

The neri watched as the nis took the elfling and led her into indoors where the dressmaker no doubt waited.

"You tell her or me?" Rumil asked.

"Better you than me. You have that portrait of Feanaro to show her, don't you? Hope that will be enough to sate her curiosity…"

"How's Nerdanel?"

"Recovering, so Lord Olorin says, but she is weary with her grief… There are whispers from Manwe's eagles about things over the sea. They say Maitimo has been maimed and Feanaro dead. Only one of the twins has been sighted, they do not know which…" Mahtan corked his wineskin and set it aside. He had quite enough.

"Is it better to know or not to? I spoke with Lady Anaire the other day. She has no inkling of what's happening to her lord and children. She is bitter still, at the Finwions – Feanaro for stirring up the rebellion, Nolofinwe and their children for deserting her…"

"Arafinwe?"

"For daring to come back to Tirion after the whole debacle. Peace, the Noldoran has enough grief of his own. His children are also under the Doom. Lady Earwen still lingers in Aqualonde. She lost her brothers in the Kinslaying…" There followed an awkward silence.

"Both her parents were talented craftsmen, and Lady Miriel too… yet I dread the day that elfling will pick up a craft. My daughter almost named her Moriel, but it sounded too close to her ill-fated grandmother's name. It seems wrong, but we wish she will never shine as brightly as her grandmother, parents or brothers. The time grows late… I promised Master Luarano I will join him for a meal."

"As always, you sell yourself short, Master Smith… Come let me walk you to the gate…" Both elves strolled off.

* * *

"That's my atar?"

"Yes, painted when he was barely older than you are…" Rumil stood back to admire his work. The small portrait sat just right tucked between a celestial star chart and a small needlework piece of the Eldar king and his consort Varda. The sampler was one of Miriel's, done towards her due date when her unborn son had been difficult, as she put it. It was still beautiful despite the simplicity of it.

Mornel had to stand on a stool to peer at the painting. It showed a gangly boy with longish hair intensely poring over a scroll which spilled over the edge of the table and onto the floor. His features had yet to lose the softness of childhood. Even at that tender age, Feanaro had a sense of presence which could not be denied. It seemed that the boy might just step out of his tiny picture frame.

"He's a handsome one even then. It's no wonder your amil fell for him…" Rumil sucked his thumb to soothe the ache from having hit it with the hammer earlier. He should have left the nail to a servant but he did not wish for anyone else to handle the precious portrait of his student.

"Was my atar a good student at Grandfather Mahtan's too?"

"Aye, I'm sure he was. When your grandfather taught him all that he knew, your atar wanted to learn more, so he left the city to be apprenticed to Lord Aule the Vala," the loremaster flipped open a large volume to show a picture of Aule in his lordly splendour to his student.

"He visited my grandfather once, during the Dark-time. He took my grandfather and the other smiths with him to work on the vessels of the sun and moon. Will you tell me of the Silmarilli Atar made, please? Were they as brilliant as Anar and Isil?"

"Ah, look at the time… Mornel, take out your star chart. We must memorize the constellations…" Rumil bustled about his desk. His student readily obeyed, unfurling her star chart.

* * *

_Mornel's journal_

_Today I learned about the stars Lady Varda put in the sky. I also learnt about the other Valar, including Lord Irmo who oversees Lorien where Amme is. I wish Master Rumil, Grandfather or Uncle will tell me about Atar. Uncle told me about my law-sister, wife to Morifinwe Carnistir. She runs the dyeworks outside the city. _

_I have yet to go to the market or outside the palace. Amarie promised she will seek Uncle's permission to take me out to the market after the Festival. Mayhaps I can visit my law-sister then. Amarie tells me the Festival will be great fun. There will be plenty of feasting, music and dancing. They say Lord Olorin will attend the banquet, as will Grandmother Indis and Aunt Findis. The princes of the Vanyar might also visit._

_Lady Eldalote came to help with the Festival preparations. She brought many silk banners for the Grand Hall. Aunt Anaire came to help too. I could not help them because I had to try on my new dress. It is such a pretty silver colour but it is so much longer than my other dresses. I fear I may trip. I asked Mistress Lannelote if we can make it shorter but she says I am too old to be baring my ankles like an infant. _

If she were to be honest, Mornel did not like Lady Anaire much. She remembered her from her first day in the city. Anaire was proud and there was a heavy air of bitterness about her like a stifling cloak. Eldalote was a pale, slender nis with a musical voice tinged with a hint of sadness. She kept chattering about the decorations and busying herself with numerous activities as if to keep from being left alone with her thoughts. Mornel thought the constant smile Eldalote wore never reached her eyes. Perhaps she missed her husband and son more than she would admit.

For now, there was the festival to look forward to.

**Notes: **

Mornel is slowly learning a bit more about her family, but no one has the heart to tell her about Feanaro's actions during the Darkening and the Silmarilli.

Lannelote - Cloth flower?

Quenya name generator returns Moriel or Mornanel for 'dark daughter'. I have chosen a merging of the two names.


	7. Festival of Friendship

A bit of clarification – Mornel's age is equivalent to an 8-10 year old human child, perhaps more a very sheltered 10 year old.

To be honest, in the Silmarillion, it may have been up to 50 years of the Sun or more between the Noldor's Rebellion and the Rising of the Sun. Possibly more than enough time for an elfling to reach adulthood. However, for the purposes of this fic, I have shortened the time of the Darkening to have Mornel questioning others about her father from the viewpoint of a child.

**7. Festival of Friendship**

The Vanyarin entourage arrived at the palace the day before the festival. The herald came to announce the arrival of Lady Indis and her daughter Findis before the nissi entered the parlour where Arafinwe was teaching his niece the harp. Mornel greeted the pair with a curtsey. A look of surprise flashed in Indis' eyes before Nixelle ushered her ward from the room to allow the Noldoran privacy to speak with his mother and sister.

"She is so much like Feanaro in her colouring, but her eyes are definitely Miriel's," Indis remarked as she took the goblet of chilled cider offered to her by her son. "What's this? Findarato's old harp?" the dowager queen picked up the elfling's abandoned harp.

"It's only fitting…" Arafinwe shrugged.

"She is not Artanis or Findarato… Don't get too fond of her, brother," Lady Findis sniffed.

"Look," Arafinwe took the small harp from his mother and pointed at a barely discernible carving of an eight-pointed star on it -the crest of Feanaro's house. "This was Makalaure's harp before he outgrew it and gave it to little Findarato. It was lying on the shelf gathering dust, so I had it re-strung for Mornel. She is a princess of my father's house, and has the right to be educated as one. After the festival, we should look at finding her a suitable pony…"

"Will you send her to be fostered and trained in court matters at King Olwe's or your uncle's court when she's older?" Indis asked.

"Perhaps…" Arafinwe's brow furrowed. He had a scheduled visit to his law-parents' realm in the spring. _Should he bring his niece? Or would her presence bring back painful memories for King Olwe? _The last time the Feanarions were in Aqualonde was during the Kinslaying. Perhaps it would be more prudent to leave Mornel in Tirion or send her to Mahtan's.

"Ara, I see you have kept their rooms untouched…" Indis added. "The child stays in the guest wing despite…"

"I know, amme. But I wish they would come back one day… perhaps the Valar can be moved to lift the Doom and Earwen will return for the sake of our children," Arafinwe put down the harp. Her son had yet to move on completely after losing both his children and wife. Findis has spoken often of the pall over the private chambers of the royal family. Everything in her grandchildren's rooms had been left as they were on the day they had departed from Tirion. The rooms he shared with his wife had been left unaltered since her departure. One speculated if Anaire kept her family home in a similar stasis. Until Indis' departure from Tirion, the Noldoran had spent his hours of reverie in his office. It was only recently that he had started using the rooms once occupied by his parents.

* * *

_The City Festival is the celebration of the Eldar's arrival in Tirion. Master Rumil and Amarie explained it to me. Only the elves who lived in the city of Tirion and the outskirts participated in the festival. It was held every yeni. This is the first time it would be held after the Darkening of Valinor. The tower overlooking the city was built by King Ingwe, High King of the Elves. The Vanyar were the first to settle here before they moved to Valmar, under the shadow of Taniquetil. The festival is also a celebration of the friendship between the Vanyar and Noldor. Some call it the Festival of Friendship, back when both King Ingwe and his court still lived in the city. They revived the old name during the time Queen Indis was married to King Finwe. _

_Grandmother Indis is so very pretty, but she doesn't hug me like Grandfather Mahtan. Aunt Findis said that I danced quite well when Amarie asked me to show them what I had learnt. I helped Lady Eldalote with the flowers for the hall. She said my cousin used to help her with the festival preparations… I am so excited I do not know if I can find reverie tonight. Amarie is staying over to help with the last minute preparations for the morning ceremonies. She is given the room next door so that she need not journey across town to the house where she lives with a cousin. _

The elfling yawned. She had stayed up long past her reverie. Nixelle had gone off after readying her charge for bed to make her own preparations for the festival. She had been granted the day off and was looking forward to spending time with her family and friends. Satisfied with her journal entry, Mornel put away her quill and climbed into bed. Just as she was drifting off into reverie, a sound roused her.

Someone was crying in the next room. _Amarie._ The elfling slipped out from under her blanket. On bare feet, she stepped out of her room. She quietly shut the door behind her. She took a deep breath before tapping on the door. "Amarie, are you alright?" There was a sniffling sound before the door swung inwards.

"I am fine, Mornel. Did I wake you? I'm so sorry…"

"I could not rest. Too excited about tomorrow. May I sit with you a while?" Mornel said. It was true that she would not be able to find reverie knowing Amarie was crying in the next room. She had been looking forward to the festival. _She had not lied,_ she insisted to herself. Lying was bad, her aunt had taught her that back at the smithy. However, she had already learned that words could be used to skip over facts like the adults about her did every time she tried to bring up her atar's actions during the Darkening.

"S-sure…" Amarie dabbed at her cheeks with a billowing sleeve to wipe away the tell-tale tears. Mornel allowed herself to be led into the room and seated on the bed next to Amarie. The settee was still hidden under the dustsheets. Only the bed and a dresser had been prepared for Amarie's short overnight stay.

"You were crying. I heard you… Is it because of him?" Mornel took Amarie's hand in hers and stroked it the way her amil did with her every time she had spoken of her absent brothers to Mornel. The elfling did not understand why but the contact soothed her, just as her Uncle's hand upon her shoulder did when they pored over the family tree and annals. She did not understand yet that it was the common bond of blood, however minute, that she was responding to in her kin's touch.

"I shouldn't… I miss him so much!"

"Cousin Findarato?" Mornel ventured. Amarie nodded in reply and burst into tears. Mornel did not hesitate but hugged the weeping nis until the tears slowed.

"I thought it would be fine for me to come back here, but the memories are too much… This wing was once used by the queen's ladies… We met at the festival for the first time. My atto sent me to serve Lady Indis, as well as to seek out a suitable spouse among the Noldor in Tirion. Most of the Vanyar are too closely tied by blood to be considered suitable, since there were so few of us in the beginning. I was so alone then, and the youngest among the queen's ladies, when I met him at the festival. He had returned from a long sojourn with his mother's people. He's so kind and sweet… I almost wish I had followed him like Lady Elenwe followed her husband… but my parents would have been horrified by the scandal. We may be betrothed but we had not bound…"

"I am glad you stayed, Amarie. We would not have met otherwise," Mornel coaxed. "There are many who have bound but remained. Aunt Anaire, Lady Eldalote, my law-sisters, even my Amme…" To venture further than the mountains of Pelori in the west and the sea off Aqualonde in the east was forbidden to them, as were the lands in the east from whence they had come. Yet her father and his followers had defied the Ban and were exiled for it. Uncle Arafinwe had skipped over much of the events which led to the Noldor's flight. It had something to do with the old king's death and the Trees withering. Her atar must have been a great leader for so many to follow him.

"My atto still writes to me, to ask me to consider breaking the betrothal and finding another… but I can't! He sent word again through a cousin in the queen's entourage. He wants me to return home to meet another ner they have chosen. Despite what they say, I feel bound to my fiancé… I care not for the Doom or that we may never…"

"You will meet again. However faint that hope seems… They tell Amme the same of my atar when she's not feeling well…" Mornel felt the tears coming and it was Amarie's turn to console her. "I haven't seen my Amme since she went to Lorien to heal… I am afraid she will die like Grandmother Miriel. I am afraid my atar and brothers might be hurt or worse by the monsters in the east she wove in her tapestry. I am afraid, even though Master Rumil says Lord Namo offers rest and healing to the fea of those who died in the Great Journey until they can be re-embodied in the gardens of his brother… Grandmother Miriel did not come back…"

"But she did, Mornel. My cousin who serves Lady Este saw her. Lady Miriel now serves Lady Vaire…"

"Really?"

"Perhaps you can meet her when you visit your amil…"

Mornel nodded and stifled a yawn.

"It's late and we have a long day ahead… perhaps you should go back to your room…"

Mornel shook her head. "May I stay here tonight, please? I get scared sometimes thinking of the monsters…"

"Of course…" Amarie cuddled the elfling close to her as she pulled the covers up to their chins.

"Hm, Amarie… did my atar enjoy the Friendship Festival?"

"Oh, we have never seen Prince Feanaro attend the festival during the time I have been in Tirion," the older elf admitted. "The king and queen, your uncles and aunts, but never your atto. He must be a busy ner with all his inventions and stuff. Your brothers did attend on occasion," Amarie smiled at the memory. "My beloved persuaded Makalaure to play while he sang for me. Then Tyelkormo's hound got loose and ruined everything. Little Aikanaro fell into the fountain and had to be fished out… Prince Nolofinwe had the water switched for wine for that day and Naro was quite drunk afterwards. Maitimo got drunk once and kissed Findekano in the street thinking he was a nis."

"What did Findekano do?" Mornel murmured sleepily. "Did he get mad?"

"Well, no. He is such a nice ner, so he helped Maitimo back to his house to rest instead…" Amarie watched as the elfling drifted off into reverie, no doubt dreaming of her brothers enjoying themselves at the party. Amarie soon drifted off into her own reverie of a golden-haired prince who ruled her heart and fea.

**Author's Notes: **

Mornel and Amarie have built up a rapport of sorts. Next chapter will be the festival and Mornel might find out the truth about her atto.


	8. A Little Princess

I had to break it into 2 separate chapters because it is so lengthy.

**8. A Little Princess**

Mornel winced as the brush wielded by Indis' handmaid tugged at her hair. More fragrant oil was slathered on the wayward tresses to work the snag loose. Barely awake from her reverie, she stood before the mirror in a sea-green gown altered to fit her smaller frame. It had been one of Artanis', but she hated wearing it, so Nixelle said. Surely her cousin would not mind her borrowing it…

"Ara, where's her circlet? She can't go out there without one," Indis murmured.

"She doesn't have one yet," her uncle's voice called out. It was not yet dawn but the Noldoran and his kin were already up and dressing for the morning prayers before Great Square. He looked almost very hot under his heavy velvet and ermine mantle. The heavy ceremonial crown kept sliding down onto his brow. His hair was already bound up in formal braids held back with matching silver and gemstone clasps.

"Will Anaire and Eldalote be joining us for the rites?" Indis murmured as Amarie dressed her hair with delicate gemstones cut in the likeness of violets. A widow she may be, but as queen and mother to a king, she was allowed her little frivolities. No black mourning crepe for her.

"Nay, Eldatlote wishes to spend the morning with her brother's children. As to Anaire, she said she will not snatch the limelight from our little princess," Findis adjusted her ribbons and tucked a stray wisp of hair under her wimple. Being a novice disciple to the Valie Este did have its benefits. From henceforth, her dress would only be plain and shorn of needless trimmings as the unadorned blue gown she now wore. Unfortunately, the style only made her look sterner than usual.

"I will join you later…" Amarie had finished her work. She had no part in the ceremony ahead. She dropped a tiny kiss on her charge's brow before Findis took Mornel's hand. Indis smoothed a crease in the back of her son's mantle. They must hurry if they were to lead the dawn prayers. The dawn of the Sun was much shorter than the mingling of Laurelin's light as it waxed.

* * *

The tiny royal household was not alone on the terrace. There were two Maiar waiting there. Mornel's heart lifted when she caught sight of her friend Olorin. She would have run forward to hug him if her aunt's grip had not tightened on her wrist. Unlike the morning of her arrival, the plaza was milling with more elves than she had ever seen in her young life. She did not know that this was a far cry from past festivals when the square would be packed shoulder-to-shoulder, with more elves perched on the roofs and balconies of the surrounding houses. _Too many had left, _Arafinwe noted regretfully.

"Lord Olorin… Lord Eonwe…" the Noldoran greeted the Maiar. "This is…" _A mistake. It's a mistake to hold the festival so soon. _No one had any mood for rejoicing in Tirion. Arafinwe's keen eyes picked out among the assembly familiar faces - nobles whose children had followed his into Exile, elves who had lost their loved ones to the Doom.

"You have grieved for too long. Lord Manwe wants the city to heal and reaffirm her friendship with Valmar and Aqualonde," Lord Eonwe's voice was loud enough to be heard throughout the plaza for the words were not solely for the Noldoran but his people too. "True, we may mourn those Exiled, but as a people, the Eldar must heal and continue to live as Iluvatar wills them in peace and harmony."

They commenced the rites honouring the Valar and Iluvatar. The Noldoran lifted his voice in an opening hymn of praise. Arafinwe's was a solitary voice, unaccompanied by neither music nor choir as tradition demanded. For the first few stanzas, it was strong. However it wavered as he noted the many absent faces in the assembly. The silence was not the respectful one which normally accompanied the prayers led by his father and the Noldoran knew it. Distracted, he missed a note and a soft murmur started up in some corner of the plaza. It was a common hymn he had chosen. That should not have happened.

Indis moved closer to her son to reassure him. Arafinwe lacked the oratory finesse of his brothers and Feanaro used to tease him mercilessly about how he would fumble over his words when presented with a large audience. It was a losing battle. Arafinwe had lost the melody of the lilting words. The festival was set to start in disarray when a soft whispered hymn started.

Findis glanced over to her niece. Mornel was singing softly, but loud enough for those on the terrace to hear her childish voice. That seemed to compose the Noldoran and the Arafinwe's voice strengthened as he found the melody again. This time it was not one voice carrying the hymn but two. Mornel's soft voice was almost drowned out by her uncle's sonorous words. Finally it was all over and the heralds declared the festival open with a blare of trumpets. The adults turned their attention to the youngest member of their household. Findis wondered if it would be fitting to administer a smack to her niece now or wait until they were in private.

"I-I'm sorry…" Mornel whimpered. "I know I shouldn't…" Master Rumil and Amarie had both stressed the sacred importance of the festival's opening and she had messed things up. She had only meant to sing the hymn deep inside her but…

Instead, her uncle patted her on the head and smiled. "Thank you, Mornel." She might have broken one of the protocols governing the ceremony, but Eru knew how much worse she had saved them from. Eonwe shrugged while Olorin chuckled with amusement.

"Miruvore! All fountains are spouting miruvore!" a trumpeteer shouted. Arafinwe raised an eyebrow questioningly at the Maia. The last time the fountains spouted wine, the festival had degraded into a drunken party with less than stellar behaviour by the citizens. It took a week to clear up the damage caused. Nolofinwe was also taken to task for emptying the palace wine cellars to supply the city's central fountain.

"That's Aiwendil's doing. Lady Yavanna commands for the Noldor to be merry, celebrate and bless the city with new life, in her exact words…" Olorin coughed. Already some elves barely past their majority were swigging the heady wine and inhibitions were dropping faster than assorted garments as giggling neri and nissi darted into convenient alleys and doorways.

The Maiar took their leave, much to Mornel's dismay.

"Don't worry, little one. You'll do fine," Olorin bent down to give the little elfling a fleeting hug. "Your amme sends her love from Lorien," he added in a low whisper meant only for Mornel.

* * *

They partook of a light meal before attending the Games where warriors competed in archery and wrestling. With the aid of the miruvore, Arafinwe's mood lightened as the day drew on. He had switched his heavy crown and formal mantle for his circlet and a light cloak. Soon he was cheering with the spectators as a sprightly young elf bested his larger opponent and tumbled him onto the mat. All his trepidation about the festival was gone like dewdrops in the sun.

"Mornel, your Uncle Nolofinwe used to compete in wrestling. As did your cousin Findekano," Findis murmured as she passed a plate of sweetmeats to her niece. Her stern exterior was softening amidst the festivities. During the archery event, Eldalote and Amarie joined them in the royal box.

"That's Helwien," Amarie pointed out a tall hooded figure among the archers clad in a kingfisher blue tunic and leather leggings. At a glance, the broad shoulders and muscular arms suggested a ner, but the illusion was dispelled when she turned to face the royal box. The leather vest did little to hide her generous bosom. A wisp of red hair peeked out from under the hood.

"She is spouse to your brother Carnistir. Her house is famed for the brilliant blue which she is now wearing," Amarie explained. "It is second only to the deep purple cloth produced by the Telerin dyers."

"She is a skilled archer and craftswoman both," Eldalote added.

Mornel thought her amme would have looked much like Helwien, ruddy of face and strong of arm, had Nerdanel's health been better. Nerdanel was and is still hailed as the best sculptress in Aman, although her workshop had lain idle since her husband left. Mornel thought her law-sister gave her a wink from under her peaked hood.

After the midday meal was a poetry and music competition, which Mornel and Amarie both enjoyed greatly. Her brother Makalaure used to win the title at every music competition he participated in, Mornel mused, until Grandfather Finwe persuaded him to allow other elves a chance at the title. Instead, Makalaure played at the banquets hosted by the king.

* * *

The hours flew by swiftly. Soon it was dusk and the nobles and courtiers made their way to the Grand Hall where the banquet was to be held. Washed, scrubbed and clad in her new silver gown, Mornel fidgeted at the high table when she felt the nobles glance her way. She was to be seated next to the Noldoran, _a daughter of Feanaro,_ they whispered in hushed tones. She could not understand the looks. Her uncle did. He scowled at the offending nobles and asked her if she would like to join Amarie at the courtiers' tables instead.

Thus Mornel found herself seated between Master Rumil and Amarie across from the Vanyarin minstrel who had won the title at the day's music competition with his lament for the Two Trees. She was allowed a watered-down cordial of miruvore on account of her tender age. It was not unusual for royal children so young to attend banquets, but never had one mingled with the lesser courtiers the likes of the tutors, handmaidens and musicians, save for Curufinwe Feanaro.

"Your atar was never one for airs, unlike his Vanyarin brethren," an ancient harpist mused. "He oft spent his time with the staff than rubbing shoulders with the nobles…"

"Oh, hush… Prince Nolo was always one of the warriors, and his sister Lalwen…" a guardsman ventured.

"But they will sit at the high table during banquets rather than eat with their men or ladies…" Rumil nodded. At their table were elves who retained some respect or fondness for Prince Feanaro, however small or grudging. Here Mornel was among friends. Many of the older elves fussed over the child as children were so rare among the Noldor now. The welcome would be very different had she been sitting elsewhere.

Rumil frowned slightly as he glanced at the high table. The Noldoran was flanked by his mother and sister. On the far right, Lady Eldalote tittered at some jest the king made. As his law-daughter, it was her due to join them at the high table at his invitation. It was the nis on the far left which caught his attention. Lady Anaire was resplendent in a blue gown shot with silver embroidery. It was dreadfully similar in cutting to that worn by Lady Findis but Rumil was certain that was not the reason for the scowl on her face.

"Lady Findis never cared much for company, save her books… She has always been the plain one…"

"I think Aunt Findis can be very pretty, if she would stop looking as if she were sucking lemons all the time…" Mornel quipped. The adults looked at each other in silence for a heartbeat before breaking out into laughter.

"Never thought I would hear that coming from Feanaro's elfling!"

"It was quite unfortunate really. Your atar used to tease his half-siblings when he was still a youngster. Compared to her mother, Findis was not as pretty and Feanaro said some unkind things he shouldn't have. Findis was a serious little nis and she took his words to heart," Rumil explained.

"Poor aunt…" Mornel murmured and resolved to be more patient when her aunt tried to correct her in her table manners and etiquette.

The banquet tables and benches were soon moved aside to allow for a large space in the centre of the hall for dancing in. Rumil danced a jig with Mistress Faniel. The Noldoran led his mother in a stately court dance. Amarie danced with her cousin and that same cousin took Mornel on a short dance. It was terribly awkward as Elemmire was so much taller than her.

"Amarie, your parents…" Elemmire suddenly warned as he handed his partner back to Amarie. Amarie glanced up to see her parents striding purposefully towards her with a reluctant-looking ner in tow. She cast about for someone nearby she could hand her charge to but there was none. Elemmire had already been whirled away by a smiling nis. Rumil was caught in a heated debate with several loremasters.

"Mornel, wait here by the stairs please. I'll be a moment…" she glided forward to greet her parents with a forced smile. Mornel took the chance to study the myriad courtiers in their finery and the serving elves bearing trays of wine or sweetmeats about. Her uncle was chatting cordially with a knot of noblemen by the drinks table. Indis and Eldalote conversed with several ladies on the terrace overlooking the rose garden.

She picked her way slowly but surely up the stairs, savouring each new vantage point she gained. Before she realised it, she was halfway up the stairs and overlooking the revelry.

"Aunt Findis?" Mornel caught a glimpse of blue darting into the deep shadows of the gallery above her, shadows too dark even for elven sight to penetrate. Findis was not among the revellers below. "Aunt?" Lifting up her flowing silver skirts, Mornel ventured up into the darkness of the gallery.

**Notes: **

Mornel is enjoying herself thus far, but things might change.

Helwien – I got this name from Quenya Name Generator. I thought it meaningful since I have set up Carnistir's wife as a dyer. Helwa- blue, which will fit in nicely with the blue dye from the indigo plant.


	9. Finding the Truth

**9. Finding the Truth **

"Aunt Findis?" Mornel paused in mid-step. She was in the shadowy gallery now. Her aunt hastened forward along the gallery. Findis had forgone her wimple at the banquet in favour of going bareheaded, so there was no tell-tale gleam of white to give her away. Mornel hurried after her as fast as her skirts would allow. It was hard not to step on the hem with her sandals. Her quarry hovered ahead in the shadows for a moment before stepping into a pool of moonlight thrown from a small skylight in the vaulted ceiling above them.

Mornel froze. It was not Lady Findis but Lady Anaire who stood before her.

"Greetings, Princess. I do not believe we have been properly introduced," the nis' tone was icy. Mornel shivered. The music and merrymaking below sounded so distant.

"You are my Aunt Anaire, spouse to my uncle, Prince Nolofinwe… Uncle- His Majesty told me of you…" Mornel's eyes darted to the statue in the nook behind her. It depicted Findekano from the waist up as a young bard with harp in hand. On the wall was a tapestry of a dark-haired nis drawing a bow, _Irisse_. This was a corner of the palace she had not yet ventured to.

"Did he tell you of how my children used to enjoy this festival? Arakano was too young to compete in the Games the last time… Irisse participated in the archery event for the first time… They should have competed today, if it were not for your atar…"

"What could you tell me of my atar? Please?" Mornel ventured in a guarded tone. Part of her wanted to run back to the dancing elves and seek out Amarie, or her uncle. Part of her demanded she stood her ground.

"You know nothing, do you? That will be just like Arafinwe," Anaire snorted with disdain. "Surely you know of the Darkening of Valinor and the slaying of your grandfather at Formenos?"

Mornel nodded hesitantly. She knew of the Withering of the Two Trees but no one had told much her of her grandfather's death. She only knew he had been died in distant Formenos, and that the northern fortress now stood abandoned by the Eldar.

"Yet you know nothing of the one who sired you, the one who had wrought so much ruin on Valinor…" Anaire cupped the elfling's chin in her hand almost tenderly as a mother would with her child.

"W-What do you mean?" Mornel breathed. Surely this was not some childish prank or careless remarks her aunt was referring to. Her tone suggested something far darker.

"Why should I tell you when you can read it for yourself? That door leads to the scriptorium. The scribes were copying a history of the Darkening for King Ingwe's library but they have gone for the banquet. I do not believe they had time to put away the scrolls before then. If you wish to know, go read. Now leave me alone with my children…" Anaire turned away from Mornel to gaze upon the likeness of her son.

With trembling hands, Mornel tried the door. It yielded easily and opened into a narrow room with long work tables and endless scrolls. It smelled of ink and old parchment. Moonlight poured in through large skylights, illuminating the scriptorium with silvery hues. A large scroll was laid out in the central table in a pool of light.

_A Historie of the Silmarilli and the Rebellion of the Noldor. _The tantalising title leapt out from the vellum. Gingerly, Mornel smoothed out the scroll and read. The words were difficult at first but she soon caught the rhythm of the writing.

Alone, the child read of her father's greatest creations and his growing obsession with the gems. She cried out in dismay at the mention of her father drawing a sword on his own brother. She sobbed when she read of the exile to Formenos and her grandfather's murder there during the Darkening. Her father had selfishly refused to surrender his gems to the Valar but it was for nought. The Black Foe Melkor had stolen the jewels and borne them over the ice.

Enraged by the death of his father and the theft of his prized jewels, Feanaro and his sons had gathered and sworn a terrible oath to reclaim their Silmarilli or be condemned to the eternal Darkness.

Her mind reeling, the elfling stopped reading.

_How could her atto, great as he is, hope to prevail against a Vala, especially one who had hoodwinked the rest of the Valar enough to sow discord and slay a king under their protection upon their Undying Shores? _Perhaps her father was already dead, and her brothers too. Perhaps her uncle, cousins and aunt, as well as the numerous Noldor who had followed him in his mad quest too. _Surely it was madness that drove her atar to defy the wisdom and law of the Valar. _

There were more runes on the scroll but she could not bring herself to continue. The words of the Oath chased each other in her mind like gnawing rats. _Darkness doom us if our deed faileth… _Sweet Eru, they had called on not only Lord Manwe and Lady Varda but Iluvatar himself to bear witness to the Oath they swore.

Her cousins, the others are be bound for Mandos' Halls to heal should they perish on those dangerous shores. One day they might be freed from the Halls and returned to their families' loving embrace. For her brothers and father, only the darkness of the Void awaited them. Their task was impossible. She shivered and wept. _Her poor amme will never see her sons again! _She shoved the scroll off the table.

Half-blind with tears, she fled from the room past Anaire, who watched her hasty departure with scant emotion.

* * *

Meanwhile, her absence had been noticed in the Grand Hall. Master Rumil searched along the terraces and a frantic Amarie the rose garden below. It was likely the child might have wearied of the revelry and ventured into the gardens. Mornel had learnt to speak with the nightingales recently and would take long strolls by starlight to converse with them. Somewhere in some nook the elfling might be in deep reverie. Various serving elves discreetly peered behind the draperies or under the tablecloths. As an elfling, Arafinwe once sought refuge under a table after being bullied by his eldest brother.

Lady Indis fanned herself as she moved from noble to noble in idle chit-chat. She was immensely uneasy. No one had thought to inform the Noldoran of his missing niece yet as he was busy with his Vanyarin guests. Amarie's parents have been pushing him to have her betrothal to Findarato dissolved, despite Amarie's staunch declaration of her undying love for Findarato. Eldalote had volunteered to search the many corridors leading from the hall. It was possible the child might have wandered off.

Mornel wasn't really thinking as she sprinted along the corridor. All she knew was that she had to get back to the lights and music of the festival, away from the horrible room where she had learned so much of her atto's actions. The stairs were before her now, steep and sweeping down onto the hall below. She was so close…

Her sandal caught on the hem of her skirts. For a moment she teetered at the very edge of the top step before she tumbled headlong down the stairs in a tangle of limbs and skirts. She barely had time to cry out before her head crashed into the marble step and she blacked out.

The commotion drew everyone's attention to the gallery stairs. The little elfling was sprawled at the foot of the stairs in a boneless heap. "Mornel!" Arafinwe shouted. "Get healers!" Indis cried out. Master Rumil hastened to obey. Arafinwe tried to scoop his niece into his arms but his sister stopped him.

"No, don't touch her yet," Findis warned. She had trained as a healer in Valmar since before the Darkening. Careless movement could do the patient further harm. She did not like the way Mornel's left leg was oddly twisted. Blood was flowing from a deep gash on her head. Her eyes were closed. Gingerly, she bent over the motionless child. Mornel was breathing, but very shallowly, and her pulse was faltering. Amarie had arrived from the rose garden and was watching on in horror, barely held upright by her cousin and Eldalote. Above the now hushed hall, Anaire peered from the gallery, her face an expressionless mask.

The whispers started as soon as the healers carefully laid their patient on a stretcher. _An omen, it was the Valar cursing the House of Feanaro… No, it is a sign that a child of his has no place in the city… Perhaps she would go join her grandmother in Mandos. __Had not Miriel died of her own will, shedding her hroa? Had not Finwe been the first elf slain in Valinor? Perhaps the Valar had turned their backs on the Noldor for their sins. _The royal family hurried after their stricken member as soon as the Noldoran made his apologies. The banquet was over.

* * *

"She dislocated her right shoulder and broke both bones in her left forearm. She broke her left leg in two places and might have a concussion. Her neck and spine are intact, fortunately…" the chief healer surmised. They had set the bones and stitched up the head wound. A brace would help her shoulder realign after they had forced it back into its socket. It was fortunate that she was out of it during the operation or it would have been immensely painful.

"Why does she not wake?" the king demanded. He had spent the night in the Halls of Healing with Amarie as the healers did their work. Indis came earlier to coax Amarie to leave with her. The poor nis was distraught with guilt over Mornel's accident. _I should have watched her more closely, _the Vanya maiden insisted even as Findis urged a calming tisane on her.

"Sire, we do not know… perhaps the shock in one so young… She was born during the Darkening…" the flustered elf replied. He did not understand why his patient had not recovered her senses. They dared not give her any opiates during the process of setting the bones due to the concussion. When Prince Tyelkormo knocked himself out after being thrown from the saddle, he had regained his senses barely an hour later while they were trying to set his arm, screaming curses and lashing out at the poor healers for their pains. It took two full vials of poppy-milk before he was sedated enough to put a cast on without causing further injury to himself or the healers. _The Eldar are very resilient, and more so in Aman. Healing should be swift._

"It would seem her fea has been injured but we have no idea what could have caused this…" Wounds to the fea were rare in Aman and even the experienced healer had never encountered any other such case in his lengthy career save for Queen Miriel who had passed from sheer weariness after an exceedingly difficult quickening and birth.

"Can she be moved?" Arafinwe asked. "Perhaps to Lorien…" This should not have happened. She was his ward and she was injured under his roof, in his care. She did not deserve to have this horrid accident happen to her. He did not know how she came to be in the gallery above. Perhaps like all children, she had grown bored of the dancing and set off to explore the palace. It was an accident. Anaire's presence in the gallery was purely chance. As was the fact the scribes found their scrolls on the Darkening and Feanaro's Oath disturbed when they went to fetch them for the Vanyarin envoy. Arafinwe had his suspicions about what could have triggered his niece's coma but he hated to think ill of his own law-sister. Lady Anaire had been both wise and kind before the Darkening. She had overseen the royal scribes and archives to great effect after their most experienced historian Quennar went into Exile with his brothers.

"Her condition is stable but I would advise we give her a few more days to heal. Perhaps she might recover without the need for a journey. Children can be very resilient," the healer suggested. He had not the desire to undertake the strenuous journey with his patient as the Noldoran would surely demand of him.

"We agree," Findis placed her hands on her brother's shoulders. "Come, you must rest. Amme has already sent Amarie to her room with a tisane of chamomile. Now it's your turn to rest."

"I will go pray to Eru for Mornel's recovery," Arafinwe insisted. "She is the last of my father's grandchildren on these shores. We cannot lose her to Mandos…" His niece lay silent and motionless on her cot. He wondered if she were starting to fade. _Was such a thing possible for an elfling on the Undying Shores?_ He did not know for the histories had never spoken of any of the Eldar fading thus, save Miriel.

**Author's Notes:**

Mornel has had a very nasty shock. She has read about the Oath and events leading up to it, but she has not read about the Kinslaying at Aqualonde yet.


	10. Vision of Things Past

I have put Mornel through quite a bit of hardship but there is some light in this chapter.

**10. Visions of Things Past**

"How's she?" Findis asked.

She had spoken with the royal healers. The physical wounds were not mending as they should, even if they took into account the lack of the Light of the Trees. _Anaire had a lot to answer for, should the rumours prove true,_ Findis pursed her lips. Arafinwe was in no state to question how the scriptorium came to be unlocked or if Anaire had any part in Mornel's accident. The scribes claimed that they had been given leave by her to end their work earlier to prepare for the banquet despite having not quite completed their work of copying the documents for King Ingwe. It was not Findis' place, but her brother's to question Anaire should it come to that.

"No change," Arafinwe murmured sadly.

Their mother had gone back with the rest of the Vanyarin party, unable to delay her departure further. The open window nearest her cot was often occupied by thrushes in the day and nightingales in the night. The birdsong soothed whoever was sitting by the elfling's side. Perhaps in the depths of slumber, the elfling could still hear the encouraging voices of her winged friends. The healers sometimes found little gifts of flowers or berries scattered about the blankets. Once a magpie even purloined an opal ring from the king's own jewel-case and threaded it into the elfling's dark tresses.

Mahtan and his wife have been informed and were on their way to Tirion. They would stay as long as their busy work schedules could allow. Master Rumil often read aloud to her from a book of tales Mornel was fond of. Amarie would sing for her pleasing Vanyarin songs. Eldalote offered to aid the healers in preparing the athelas and other herbs to strengthen the elfling. Her nervous chatter could be heard in the store where the herbs were prepared.

"Lord Olorin and Lord Aiwendil are here," Findis ushered in their visitors. Arafinwe tried not to wrinkle his nose at the too-earthy reek of mulch wafting off Aiwendil. The Maia tracked a trail of mud and leaves in his wake, much to the healers' dismay.

"Her fea is indeed wounded. For one so young, she needs the light of her parents' fear to heal," Olorin said solemnly. Between him and his colleague, they could mend the hroa, but it will be in vain if Mornel's fea were treading the path to Mandos.

"Her atar is lost under the Doom and her amil languishes in Lorien on the verge of fading," Arafinwe groaned. "Could the light of any of her kindred do in their stead?"

"Nay, you are too distant in blood to aid her in that manner. A sibling could be of some aid. Otherwise it will be up to the little one to decide," Olorin explained gently and patted the Noldoran on the shoulder.

"So it is to Lorien…" Arafinwe gave a weary sigh.

"She is Curufinwe Feanaro's daughter. If she decides to live, nothing could hold her to Mandos," Aiwendil chuckled softly as he picked a dried flower from the child's hair. "She needs more time…"

* * *

She felt cold and numb. It did hurt at first- a dull ache. The ache went away. She could hear the voices of her family and friends. At first they were close, but slowly they faded off into a distant hum. She found the silence and darkness which remained comforting.

Mornel curled up into a tight ball. It was brighter now, and the sounds grew louder. She felt light and naked, as if shorn not only of her garments but her very hroa. She stood on the Great Square amidst elves who did not seem to heed her presence. By the torchlight she saw them, her atto and brothers. She knew it could only be them although she had yet to see any likeness of her brothers within her grandfather's home or the palace.

Her atto's eyes gleamed with an almost lunatic light as he addressed the crowd. Red-haired Maitimo stood beside him, towering over his father by half a head. His arms were thrown almost protectively over the shoulders of two younger elves, the Ambarussa. The twins were staring as if transfixed by their father's speech. Makalaure clutched his harp to his breast still, having just sung the funeral lament for their grandfather. Blond Tyelkormo and raven-haired Curufinwe stood shoulder to shoulder, hands resting on their sword hilts. Off to the side, Carnistir scowled as he dabbed at his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

_"Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean_

_Brood of Morgoth or bright Vala,_

_Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,_

_Neither law, nor love, nor league of swords,_

_Dread nor danger, not Doom itself_

_Shall defend him from Fëanáro, and Fëanáro's kin,_

_Whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh,_

_Finding keepeth or afar casteth_

_A Silmaril. This swear we all..._

_Death we will deal him ere Day's ending,_

_Woe unto world's end! Our word hear thou,_

_Eru Allfather! To the everlasting_

_Darkness doom us if our deed faileth..._

_On the holy mountain hear in witness_

_and our vow remember,_

_Manwe and Varda!"_

Swords raised high, her atto and brothers swore that terrible Oath. Mornel stood frozen in a silent scream.

_You cannot change the shadow of things past… _a soft voice whispered. The images faded back into darkness and a beautiful nis stepped forward. Mornel sank to her knees. She knew this was the Valie Vaire. _Why are you here, Mornel Feanariel? _

_I do not know where else I should be… Tell me please, if my brothers and atto now dwell in Mandos' Halls or the eternal Dark? _

The Valie was silent as she wiped the elfling's tears with a handkerchief. Moved by the Noldoran's prayers, Manwe has allowed a special boon to aid the elfling's recovery. However, it was up to her husband to persuade the stubborn elven fea in his care to cooperate. There was no telling what could happen.

She glanced up at the approach of another. Of course they had not expected Curufinwe Feanaro. That poor fea was too far consumed by his rage and madness still. It was another tormented fea which clung to her husband's robes. _Telufinwe Ambarto_.

Mornel hiccupped and looked up. The Valie was gone. She was sitting in her favourite glade near Mahtan's house. The glade was bathed in sunlight and alive with birdsong. There was someone up the tree – a young ner just past his majority. The elf lounged against the trunk of the oak tree as he smiled at her.

"Greetings, little sister… would you come join me here in the shade? This sun-thing is so hot…" Mornel did not need a second invite. Determinedly, she clambered up towards the branch. Reaching down, her brother pulled her up to sit next to him. He waited until she caught her breath.

"You're not in the eternal Dark like the Oath…" she hugged her brother fiercely. "But you're not alive either…" Mornel instinctively recognized it was a shade she was speaking with. The outlines of her brother shimmered like a mirage.

"Lord Manwe and Eru declared the Oath void… We of the Exiles are allowed the solace of the Halls should we perish. However, Valinor is denied to us under the Doom, until it be lifted. Lord Irmo and Mandos have granted me a chance to meet you before then. Tell Amme we are sorry we left…"

"Who else are there in the Halls? Are our brothers…" Mornel asked quietly.

"Too many have come into Mandos, our atto among them. Methinks I spied Turukano's wife, but I cannot be sure. But the rest of our brothers, Uncle Nolo, aunt and cousins of the line of Finwe still live on Beleriand's shores. Listen, little sister. My time here grows short. Don't fade, not like this. Please take care of Amme for us…"

"I promise… Does it hurt?" Mornel asked softly. "Dying…"

Telvo nodded and hugged himself. "It did, then I woke up in Mandos where I started healing. Mandos is not only for punishment, it can be a place to heal, if one's fortunate…"

"How is atto?"

"I have not seen him yet. His wounds are graver than mine… He wasn't always that way, you know, mad… No matter what they say…" Telvo trembled. His heart felt so weary and his wounds from the fire were reopening anew as the painful memories returned.

"We must go… I back to Mandos and you back to Uncle Arafinwe and Amme," Telvo stated. "Perhaps one day…"

"We will meet again in Valinor…" Mornel tearfully bid farewell to her brother. It pained her to see the terrible burns and blisters slowly appear on his skin as they spoke. Telvo managed a weak smile before he faded away completely. Mornel was left perched on the branch alone.

Her world suddenly tilted and she was falling into blackness. Jarring pain shot through her tiny body and she cried out.

* * *

"You fool! I warned you to be careful!" Findis' voice snapped in annoyance. The novice healers offered their profuse apologies.

The royal Noldor siblings' tempers were close to fraying. Everything was not going according to plan after the Maiar left. First the coach which was to take them to Lorien broke a wheel axle. Next Mornel caught an infection and was burning up with the wound-fever before it broke. Following that, the chief healer who was to accompany her on the journey badly scalded himself brewing tea. A rare rainstorm prevented them from starting out for further two days.

Arafinwe crouched on the floor, cradling the whimpering patient. The last thing Mornel needed was a tumble off the stretcher and onto the hard flagstone floor in her delicate condition.

The elfling's eyelids fluttered and a weak moan issued from her lips.

"She wakes! Findis, she wakes!"

"Hurts…" Mornel croaked. She wondered why her arms are so stiff when she tried to hold onto her uncle. They were bound up with stiff bandages. Arafinwe lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the cot in the Hall of Healing. A warm milky concoction was held to her lips for her to sip at.

"Does it still hurt, Mornel?" Findis asked.

"N-not as bad… I saw my brother Ambarto…" Mornel started weakly. "He's dead, so's atto…"

"You were in Mandos' Halls?" Arafinwe demanded. Mornel shook her head.

"I do not know where I was. It seemed like the glade behind Grandfather's smithy, but it could not be. It was like some dream. Ambarto told me the others are still in Beleriand. S-says he's sorry for leaving…" Mornel whispered.

"Lord Irmo's work no doubt," Arafinwe muttered under his breath. _His children are alive._ A sense of relief washed over him. There was hope yet for them. He offered up a silent prayer of thanks.

"Mornel!" Amarie cried out in sheer relief as she stepped through the door. With her were Eldalote and Helwien. Helwien still wore her dye-splattered apron, having rushed over from her workshop. Her hands and forearms were stained blue. News had travelled fast in the streets. The citizens were abuzz with the news of the princess' accident and the ensuing coma. Now she had awoken against all expectations.

* * *

In Mandos' Halls, two wounded fea met. One was a brilliant pillar of fire, raging still, despite having consumed its hroa to ashes. It seemed to the son that the fire in his atto's soul would blaze until the end of time itself. His father's madness had seen him burnt with the ships at Losgar. Ambarto had studiously avoided him since hearing of his arrival in Mandos. Now he resolved to speak with him.

_Atto, _Ambarto tried to stifle the trembling in his voice. _You have a daughter… Her name is Mornel. _He received no acknowledgement of his words. _She looks much like Curufinwe… _This time the pillar wavered. His father did not speak.

_She dwells in Tirion, ward of Uncle Arafinwe. Memories of the Eldar are long and I fear her path will not be easy… Not with Aqualonde… Atto! Have you nothing to say at all? _Ambarto demanded. Feanaro remained silent. Even Finwe, whose approval and affection Feanaro had so jealously sought in life, was unable to draw him out of his silence. _What more the youngest and most overlooked of his many sons? _

_Farewell, Atto… _Ambarto said and drifted off. His wounds were still aching. The effort of holding a fair form had been too much, even with Lord Irmo's aid. It was too soon after his horrific death for his fea to heal and it would never do for his little sister to see the full extent of the injuries to his fea. He must find some corner of the Halls where he can heal in peace without encountering hostile fear from Aqualonde or the Helcaraxe. Perhaps he would seek out his grandfather. Finwe had been his grandson's protector since the battered fea stumbled into Mandos. Ambarto had earlier sworn never to leave the halls even if the Doom were to be lifted if his twin was not there to receive him in Lorien. Now, if offered, he will accept re-embodiment if only to watch over his little sister.

_Eru knows she'd need all the help she can get. _

**Author's Notes: **

I am taking the plot where Amrod (Ambarto) gets burned up with the ships at Losgar. So he's dead and in Mandos to conveniently be pulled out by Lords Irmo and Namo as proof to Mornel that the Oath is void. Seriously doubt Feanor will be cooperating with the Valar in any way at this point.

Also gave me the excuse to have one of Feanor's sons confronting him in the Halls - the one he ended up killing by accident. Seriously, no roll call of the kids before burning up your ships, supplies and all? No wonder Amrod has issues.

Amrod's information is not exactly up to date. His cousin Arakano is most likely batting about in Mandos by now but their paths have yet to cross.


	11. Gardens of Lorien

Arafinwe feels Mornel is not healing as well as she should and sends her to Lorien under Findis' care. Mornel learns about what happened at Aqualonde and is distraught.

**11. Gardens of Lorien**

"Thank you, Mornel," Findis looked up as Mornel brought over the herbs she needed for her sleeping draught. She had been mixing it for some elves still tormented by nightmares from the Kinslaying and unable to enter their much-needed reverie. Findis had officially started her discipleship under Lady Este and Lord Irmo in the arts of healing. Henceforth, she would not be as free to leave Lorien to visit her brother.

Arafinwe had been too hasty in sending Mornel to Lorien, Findis mused as she carefully weighed out the necessary herbs to be boiled for the patients. Mornel's healing had been slow as expected of a child not born in the Light of the Trees. However, the slight weakness in her left leg remained long after the other hurts have healed. FIndis found she rather enjoyed her niece's company. Amarie was a great help in the early days but she had duties in Tirion she could not neglect. The child was curious about the healing arts and the Gardens of Lorien. The Maiar allowed her to wander about as long she did not over-exert her weak leg or disturb the other patients.

Mornel's recovery was well on track and it would be long before she could be returned to Tirion. Already she had put her crutches aside although her leg was still weak. Olorin and Aiwendil visited often with stories and little gifts for the child's amusement. It could be boring in the Gardens for a child. Mornel found other elflings who had been left at Lorien by their parents to heal and shared the toys she had with them. There had been a few complaints from elves who had lost kin in Aqualonde once news spread that the new elfling was Feanaro's child. Lord Irmo had to make it clear that like every other elf in Lorien to heal, Mornel was a guest of his and under his protection.

"Aunt, will you be visiting my amil today?"

"Aye. I will be passing that way after visiting the huts." Mornel had a cot in her aunt's rooms rather than share a common ward with the other patients. When Mornel first came, Lord Irmo felt the arrangement necessary to ensure that her presence did not upset his other patients. Despite the initial unhappiness, most of the patients have grown used to seeing the child tagging along at her aunt's skirts or exercising her weak leg under the careful guidance of Irmo's helpers.

"May I come, please?"

"Sure, only if you promise to be quiet," Findis replied.

Soon after her arrival in Lorien, the strain of bearing and raising her child without her soul-mate caused Nerdanel to fall into a deep sleep. Lord Irmo had assured them that it was a sleep of healing and that given time she would awake. For now, Nerdanel slumbered for weeks on end, awaking on the rare occasion for an hour or so before slumbering again. Those bouts of wakefulness were sufficient to reassure her parents that she would not tread the path of Miriel Serinde. Mornel had visited her previously with her aunt but her amil had been in slumber then.

"I will bring the checkers Olorin gave me for the brothers Tinwion. I can't play them alone." _And Findis was often busy. _The brothers were two youths who had witnessed their parents' deaths at Aqualonde as elflings. The trauma had robbed them of their voices. Their kin had packed them off to Lorien to heal. Their first reaction to Mornel was to pelt her with their wooden cups and pillows until their Maia minders stopped them. Mornel's innocent charm had won them over in the end and the youths started to look forward to her visits. The healer Maia in charge of their hut informed Findis that the brothers had also lost on that fateful day a younger sister of Mornel's age to a stray arrow in the chaos. Mornel's visits did them some good. The younger had made some attempt to speak the other day to ask for some water before reverting to gestures. The older brother's tantrums had lessened.

"I hear from the others that they lost their parents at Aqualonde during the Darkening… were they slain by Moringotto as Grandfather was? What happened at Aqualonde, Aunt?"

_She does not know yet._ Findis thought sadly. "Come, child, we have much to do before visiting your amil. Go get a stout walking stick in case you get weary."

* * *

The younger of the Tinwion brothers smiled when Findis and Mornel came into their hut. The dark circles about his eyes spoke of troubled dreams. The elder boy was whittling away at a piece of wood. Still, he acknowledged their visitors with a curt nod. There were precious little for the patients to amuse themselves with in the huts. Mornel shyly presented her little gift to the older youth. He nodded but did not smile. Mornel placed the checkers on the table. Findis spoke calmly to the younger brother who reclined on his cot, checking his pulse and other signs. She bade him open his mouth so that she could peer down his throat. She repeated the same with the elder brother. In the throes of their nightmares, the brothers were known to scream themselves hoarse and cause their throats to bleed. The Maia in charge of their hut had already treated the scratches the pair inflicted on their flesh with healing salves.

While Findis carried out her examinations of the other patients in the healing hut, the older boy finished his whittling and held out a carved swan to the child.

"It's beautiful…" Mornel gasped. The swan had its wings outspread, as if ready to take flight from the water. It's yours. The carver pressed the craving into Mornel's hand and closed her small fingers about it. A shadow fell over her. A large hand slapped the gift out of her hand and sent it clattering across the mosaic tiles.

"She's the daughter of the elf who killed your parents, my nephew. Have you forgotten that day in Aqualonde?" a tall elf with silvery hair growled as he took hold of the youth's collar and shook him hard. The younger brother gave a high-pitched cry like a wounded bird. The Maia minders came running.

"Fie! She is likewise a guest of Lord Irmo, just as your nephews. Reel in your temper! You are forbidden from harming the patients by order of Lord Irmo."

Terrified by the commotion, the elfling ran for the sheltering arms of her aunt. Findis held her niece close until her trembling sobs ceased.

"Accursed Kinslayers…" the Telerin elf spat as the Maiar escorted him out of the hut and the gardens. The rest of the helpers went about settling the alarmed patients. Findis took her leave of her colleagues and took Mornel by the hand, leading her out onto the path to her amil's hut.

"A-Aunt… what's a K-Kinslayer? Why is that ner so angry with us? What did my atto do at Aqualonde?" Mornel asked.

Findis took a deep breath to steady herself before continuing. She would not hide the truth from Mornel any longer. "A kinslayer is one of the Eldar who kills another of his people. I was not there when the Kinslaying happened."

"Atto was. And my brothers…" Mornel stated matter-of-factly as she wiped her tears. "Why? Why did they need to kill?"

"They say the Teleri refused to ferry the Noldor host across the sea in their ships and a fight broke out. You will have to ask your uncle what happened. Although he came upon the docks after the Kinslaying, he might know better…"

"D-did many die like the Tinwions' parents?"

"Sadly, yes. Many of the elves here have lost kin or were wounded during the Kinslaying. Mornel, whatever they say, you are you. The blame is with Feanaro, not you… Most of the elves understand this, but some like the Tinwions' uncle… and your Aunt Anaire…"

"Why did atto do it?" the elfling scrunched up her brow in thought. Her brother Telvo had called their atto mad. _Had he been mad then? _

"Indeed, why? Your atar was a difficult elf to understand. Perhaps his temper and pride got the better of his common sense that day," Findis mused. "It might have been different if it had been Nolofinwe or Arafinwe who had arrived at Aqualonde first… Look, here we are…" They had arrived at Nerdanel's hut.

* * *

Findis ushered her niece into a room. Within, Nerdanel reclined wanly in a single bed. She was awake but just barely. She gave a weak smile to her daughter.

"Amme," Mornel hesitantly approached the bed. Findis helped her law-sister sit up.

"Mornel, are you well?" Nerdanel's voice was barely a whisper. The child nodded.

"Uncle Arafinwe takes such good care of me. Aunt Findis is here studying healing…"

"How's your leg, Mornel? I dreamt you had a terrible accident…" Even in the throes of her illness, a mother would be aware of any threat to her child.

"I am so much better now, see?" Mornel spun around but her weak leg failed her then and she fell onto her rump.

"She will be able to return Tirion soon, if she takes care of that leg," Findis added as she helped her niece up.

"That's nice… I dreamt Telvo and Fea…" Nerdanel's voice trailed off and her eyes became unfocused. She was falling back into slumber. Already, the Maia minder was at the door, urging her visitors to leave.

* * *

"Will my amil ever recover?" Mornel asked quietly. She was leaning heavily on her stick as they picked their way back to their own hut. Perhaps her leg was not that strong yet. Findis promised herself to soak that limb in warm water with healing herbs and massage it with a soothing oil before the child went to bed.

"She will, in Lord Irmo and Lady Este's care…" Findis tried to sound reassuring but failed.

"It's not fair… Atto and my brothers had to take that stupid Oath… and the poor elves at Aqualonde…" The bottled-up frustrations overflowed and the tears came hard and fast. The strain of keeping up a cheerful front despite the whispers and her slow healing was too much for the little elfling. "Why didn't the Valar stop them from making that Oath and stop the Kinslaying from happening? Then there would be no Doom and everyone would be happy, right?" Findis had no answer to give her niece.

"Things were not that simple. The Eldar were given free will by Eru and a choice by the Valar," Olorin stepped out from the shadows of a stately elm. "Your atto was given a choice to turn back and seek forgiveness from the Valar. He chose to continue his pursuit of Melkor."

"I do not understand…"

"Perhaps in time you will, child. Now, go with your aunt."

"What exactly happened at Aqualonde? Master Olorin, please! Could you tell me?"

"If you wish to know," Olorin coughed. "You may go visit your grandmother Miriel at Vaire's Hall when they open the halls to air their new tapestries in a sennight's time. You will not get another chance to view them for another yeni. Oh, and you are you, Mornel. Not just Curufinwe's daughter. You too have free will to make what you will of your life."

**Author's Notes: **

Mornel is starting to feel the strain of those whispers and gossip about her atto even in the calming Gardens of Lorien. Who could blame her? She is starting to grow into her tweens about now and there will be less cuteness and more angst.


	12. Threads of Truth

Mornel defies her aunt's orders and makes her way to Vaire's Hall to view the tapestries.

I have no idea about the geography of the Valar's respective halls, and I am taking a leap of faith that the Halls of Vaire and Lorien are within walking distance for a child.

**12. Threads of Truth**

_Amme is improving. She awoke twice this week alone. Alas, I only managed to speak with her for a short while. Master Rumil sent over some assignments I am to complete and return to him through Lord Olorin. I hate algebra and geometry but Olorin says that just because I am away from Tirion doesn't mean I should let my studies slip. I wish he had sent over the Annals of the Great Journey we were reading before the accident. I do so wish to know what became of King Olwe's brother Elwe. _

_I do not know what exactly happened at Aqualonde. I know my atto led his men to Aqualonde to ask for ships to cross the sea. Aunt Findis said a fight broke out between my atto's men and the Teleri over the ships. Then Uncle Nolofinwe's men caught up with them. Many elves were killed and it was the first time elves were killed intentionally by elves in Aman. Master Olorin says that the Teleri elves who died at Aqualonde will be re-embodied and return to their families once their fear are healed in Mandos. I want to believe him and Telvo. I wish my friends the Tinwions could have their parents back soon. Maybe then they can find their voices back. _

Mornel paused in her journal entry to look at the wooden swan Olorin had returned to her on behalf of the Tinwions. One delicate wing was snapped in half. Olorin had offered to mend it with his magic but Mornel declined. It was fine the way it was. Somehow, it felt wrong to change the swan further after all the effort Tinwion the Elder put into it. Her leg had been bothering her since that tumble earlier at her amil's and she wondered if it will ever recover fully.

_I wish I could visit Grandma Miriel and see the tapestries of what happened during the Darkening but Aunt Findis says I am not to run off without her. I fear if she comes with me, I will never know what really happened. Aunt Findis will be busy gathering herbs for her potions and poultices. Perhaps I can ask Master Olorin or Aiwendil to walk with me to view the tapestries._

* * *

The morning of the tapestry-airing dawned bright and clear. Findis had risen at dawn to make her way to Yavanna's pastures to seek healing herbs from the Valie's fields and glades. Mornel called out for her Maiar friends but they were not present. Thus it was a solitary elfling who limped along to the Hall with the aid of her walking stick.

She knew she was close when she noticed the change in the dress of the handmaidens. The white wimples of the disciples of Este and Irmo gave way to the indigo fillets and nets of Vaire's maidens. She found the entranceway to the Valie's Hall easily and slipped in unchallenged. She was not alone. For this one day a part of Vaire's Hall was accessible to the living. Worried elves throng the halls, seeking news from the tapestries of the fates of their kin over the sea. They were to be disappointed, for few tapestries displayed that day showed the events of the Hither Shores. Mornel did glimpse a particularly horrific one depicting the Flight of the Noldor over the Ice. Her uncle and cousins had gone over the Grinding Ice. She shivered. It was a fine piece of work and Mornel guessed her grandmother had a part in its making.

There was another which showed ships burning in the distance as the Host of the Noldor watched. Mornel paused. She knew she was close. The crowd here was much thinner. The elfling hobbled along with the aid of her stick. She was so weary she did not notice when the rest of the elves departed. She noted a tapestry of the Oath, also skilfully embroidered. There was one of her uncle seeking the forgiveness of the Valar. Miriel's touch was on them all.

It was the red which caught her eye. Her heart thumped in her chest as she gasped in shock and horror. The tapestry was large, as large as the one of the Great Journey which hung in Tirion's palace. In stark hues of red and black, the tapestry unflinchingly related the events. She read from the tapestry her atto's arrival in Aqualonde, how he had sought out the crown prince there for the use of their ships. The prince refused and in the next panel, he had her atto's sword sticking out of his chest. In a panic, she sought out the faces of her kin in the following panels.

It was an uneven fight. The Teleri were lightly-armed with their bows and whatever weapons they could lay their hands upon at short notice. Feanaro's forces were trained and girded for war with superior shields and swords forged by Noldorin smiths. Mornel whimpered. _There were children and women, caught up in the chaos on the docks. _There was a glimpse of her uncle Nolofinwe's banner in the distance as he hastened to his brother's aid. Thankfully, there was no sign of Arafinwe's banner. The elfling forced herself to take in the scenes of slaughter. There were Tyelkormo and Curufinwe, cutting down foes left and right. Carnistir was in a corner running a Teleri archer through with his blade. Maitimo stood alongside his father, hacking down their foes. Behind him were the twins, their blades drawn but not yet bloodied. The expressions on their faces spoke of confusion. There was no sign of Makalaure in the panels. She found him towards the last panels, harp in hand, standing with head bowed among the corpses.

Next she sought out her uncle and cousins. Of the Arafinwions there were no sign. She found Nolofinwe and his children caught in the fray as they rushed to their kin's aid. Irisse fought alongside Tyelkormo and Curufinwe. Findekano guarded Maitimo's flank. Finally, Mornel had to look away, her chest heaving. She retched, tasting the acrid bile in her mouth. Ambarto had said their atto was mad. Telvo had seemed so kind and gentle in her dream-vision, _had he bloodied his sword like the others in the end?_ Mornel trembled.

_It could not be so! Her atto… her brothers…_ She seized hold of a corner of the tapestry and tugged but it was made of stern stuff and would not yield so easily. She screamed and yanked harder to no avail. Alarmed handmaidens came running at the ruckus. Hastily, they whisked the tapestry off to safety, leaving the distraught elfling behind. The chill of the halls seemed to seep into her very core. She fancied she could hear the unkind words of the Telerin ner, the Tinwions' uncle. He had cause to be angry with her and her family… Her knees buckled and she sank onto the flagstones in tears.

"It was not fit to be viewed by a young one like you," a gentle voice chided. Reassuring arms wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Mornel looked up into a familiar face framed by silvery hair bound back by a black fillet and net. Gentle silver eyes smiled at her as the nis helped her to her feet. "Come, the fresh air outside will do you good."

"Grandma…"

"Hush, I will send for some sweet tea to strengthen you. Our wine is much too strong for a child…"

* * *

Grandmother Miriel seemed so sad. _Was it because of Grandfather Finwe's decision not to wait for her to leave Mandos and remarrying Indis? Or was it because of the things atto did? _The sun beamed down upon them as they sat in the little walled garden outside Vaire's hall. The sweet tea and sugary biscuits were delicious. Yet the elfling barely touched them, she had so many questions to ask but did not know how to start. Miriel's presence calmed her considerably.

"Mornel, so you have come to view the tapestries to find out more about your atar…" Mornel nodded and an awkward silence followed.

"What was my atto like as a child?" Mornel ventured quietly.

"Alas, you are better off asking the nurses who saw to him. He was but a wee baby when I left for Lorien," the nis sipped at her tea.

"Do you hate Grandfather Finwe for what he did- remarrying?" Her grandmother tightened her grip on her cup such that her knuckles showed white.

"Perhaps I did. I was so weary I needed more time to heal. Instead of waiting, he had the gall to ask the Valar to break our bond so that he could wed the nis I have always looked upon as a sister. Yet…"

"You weave the tapestries of his House," Mornel blurted.

"It was my request and Lady Vaire has granted it. It was difficult at first in Mandos but I managed. No, I do not hate him in the end. How ironic that when my husband and son are in Mandos, I am here re-embodied. Indeed, both Doom and Valar seem keen to part us… Oh, I believe we have a visitor."

Mornel blanched as she looked in the direction her grandmother was gazing in. She saw her Aunt Findis, wearing a scowl like thunder in the gateway of the walled garden. "Mornel Feanariel! Where have you been? Did I not tell you to stay in the hut?"

"Princess, calm yourself…" Miriel coaxed as she stood up. She recognized Finwe's eldest. Findis had inherited her father's colouring and temper.

"Aunt, but…" Rising from her chair, Mornel tried to apologize but Findis continued. She had been frantic when she returned to the hut to find her niece missing. Despite Lord Irmo's assurances, FIndis feared that some of the Teleri elves might seek to harm the child as a form of vengeance for their slain. It was by chance that she encountered Olorin during her search and was pointed in the direction of Vaire's Hall.

"You headstrong, wilful, thoughtless child… just like your atar! All you think of is yourself!" A resounding slap rang out. Mornel rubbed her aching cheek. Findis stared at her own hand, stunned by her own actions. She had not meant to hit Mornel. Mornel stepped back. Before either of the adults could react, Mornel ran past her aunt and out of the garden.

"Mornel, wait!" The child ignored the cries of her elders and ran blindly. She ignored the brambles and thorny shrubs which tore at her when she lost the path under her feet. She kept running until her aching legs could no longer support her. Finally, she collapsed weeping into the grass.

* * *

"_Big brother…" Young Findis called out hesitantly to the lanky youth bent over his work. Her mother was in childbed and soon she would be a big sister. No more would her mother's doting affection be hers alone. For a young elfling, the prospect was quite daunting. Finwe was sitting by her mother's bedside but Findis was too young to be allowed within the birthing chamber. Feanaro was always a shadowy presence about the palace as far as the little princess was concerned. King Finwe doted on him and heaped praises on him. Finwe would play with his daughter but Findis supposed it was different for a princess. _

"_Brother Curuf-"_

"_Never call me that." Not to be put off by the rebuke, the princess approached. Ignoring her entrance, Feanaro was setting a shiny gem into an intricate little box. _

"_It's pretty…"_

"_It's for atto, to cheer him up when your amil gives him another ugly, stupid baby," Feanaro sniped without looking up from his work. _

"_I think our baby brother is going to look as handsome as atto…" Findis huffed. _

"_He's your baby brother, not mine. And he will end up looking like a monkey's butt, just like his sister and probably much sillier… now get out of my room." _

It had hurt and it still hurt. Findis knew she was not as pretty as her amil and never would be. Her younger siblings adored him. It was hard not to. Feanaro shone in whichever task he set his hand to. Nolo and Ara tried their utmost to gain their big brother's approval as much they would their atto's but it was never enough. Feanaro bullied them mercilessly with his words throughout their childhood. He often drove his stepmother to tears with his cutting remarks, especially when Arafinwe came along looking so much like a Vanya that it only took a few well-placed words for rumours about his legitimacy to start flying.

Findis long conceded defeat in ever gaining her big brother's approval. Her younger siblings never gave up. Nolo had been hurt when Feanaro drew a sword on him and accused him of scheming against him. They had all been hurt by Finwe's decision to follow Feanaro to Formenos. During his regency in Tirion, Nolofinwe was constantly plagued with doubts about his ability to govern, just as Arafinwe still is as Noldoran. Lalwen could have done better for herself than that oaf of a guardsman she ended up with. Although matters of the heart cannot be so easily reasoned, Findis believed part of the rush was Lalwen's fear that she would end up an old maid like poor Findis as Feanaro was so fond of reminding everyone at the rare family gathering he attended with his growing brood. Lalwen did have a son with her husband but that was the only child they had between them. Poor little Laurefindil was forever seeking refuge in the company of his cousins to escape his troubles at home. Lalwen's feelings towards her husband were lukewarm at best by the time she and her son left Tirion with Nolofinwe's host.

_Why had she hit the child? Perhaps for a split second there, it was not Mornel she saw before her but Feanaro. _A floodgate of rage had burst open then. It terrified her. _How could she continue raising Mornel with the love and affection she needed given the intensity of her long-repressed anger against Feanaro? _

"Mornel!"

Dusk was falling and there was no sign of the elfling. Miriel begged Lady Vaire for leave to join in the search for her granddaughter. The Valie was apologetic but insistent. Miriel had dedicated her life to recording the deeds of the House of Finwe and the Finwions have not been sitting idle over the Sundering Sea. Miriel's skills were needed in the Halls. It would be up to Findis and whoever of Irmo's Maia and helpers to search for the missing child. _Where could the child have gone off to? _The forests of Aman might be free from dangerous animals but an unwary child might fall into a river or off a cliff.

**Author's Notes: **

There is no canonic basis for Glorfindel (Laurefindil) being a cousin of Turgon or that Irime was married or mother of Glorfindel. The canonic facts are that Glorfindel was born in Valinor and was part of Turgon's host. He was reluctant to leave but did so due to his kinship and loyalty to Turgon. He had no part in the Kinslaying in Aqualonde.


	13. A Companion

Lord Orome gave Tyelkormo Huan the Hound. He never expected to lose another one of his beasts to a member of Feanor's House.

**13. A Companion**

It was a soft nose nuzzling her that snapped Mornel out of her troubled reverie. The elfling saw that she was deep in the woods and night had fallen. She was hopelessly lost. Warm breath tickled her neck. Mornel turned and saw a curious young horse looking down at her. The horse butted her gently with its nose, urging her to rise from the dewy grass. Judging from its spindly legs and gangly gait, it was still a yearling perhaps, yet it stood as tall as any of the horses in her uncle's stables. Its coat was a misty-grey, so pale as to seem otherworldly even in Valinor.

"Are you lost too, horse?" the elfling asked. The horse gave a shrill whinny in reply.

"Fearocco! Where is that horse?" a loud voice boomed through the silent woods, startling both child and horse. The horse danced about Mornel in circles. A massive silver-pale steed stepped out of the shadows. On his back were a couple. The male was large and had fierce-looking. He had a large hunting horn at his belt. His lady companion was petite in comparison, almost the size of an elf. She rode before him on the saddle. Her feet were bare and she was crowned with spring flowers. The yearling trotted up and greeted his sire Nahar with a cheerful whinny.

"I told you he would find her, isn't that right, little one?" Vana slid off her perch and patted the yearling's nose. "Come, your aunt must be worried. You have wandered far into my lord's woods."

"I can't… They would not want me back, because of my atto…"

Lord Orome gave a huff of annoyance and his steed snorted beneath him. "Don't be a fool, child. Your family is worried by your flight. Never mind about your father's deeds," he gruffly chided the child. Mornel quailed under his stern gaze. Lord Orome was much more imposing a figure as a Vala than the smiling Lord Aule or kind-mannered Lord Irmo.

"Don't, you frighten her," Lady Vana chided softly as she wrapped her cloak about the shivering elfling. "Still, it is not right that one so young should have to bear such a heavy heart alone. You said that yourself, my husband, when her brother first fled to your woods…" _You took Tyelkormo under your wing and taught him all there is to know about the ways of the birds and beasts. _Lulled by the Valie's comforting embrace, Mornel's head lolled as reverie claimed her.

"It was a mistake, just as our brother Aule made a mistake with Feanaro…" he dismounted and helped his wife lift the sleeping child into Nahar's saddle. Of all the Children, Tyelkormo had been his favourite. Eru, he had been fond of the silly boy from the moment he chanced upon him weeping in his woods, driven there by the unkind taunts of his playmates over his blond hair. It did not matter if his blond hair was from an unlikely act of adultery by his amil or a throwback to some distant fair-haired forebear, Orome had told his favourite student. Tyelkormo had been an eager pupil and Orome had chosen to reward him with Huan, the cream of his hunting hounds. As he blossomed into adulthood, he came to be known as Tyelkormo the Fair for his good looks, inherited from Curufinwe Feanaro. Orome had accused him of playing the peacock at times, strutting before all the wide-eyed nissi with golden tresses and roguish smile. How the poor ladies had vied for scraps of his attention then! If there was ever a gathering of ten or more swooning young nissi, he was certain to find his student in the centre of the group.

He had not dreamt that Tyelkormo would follow his father in their flight. Then again, Orome was only his mentor. Feanaro was the father whom Tyelkormo had looked up to since he first opened his eyes as an infant. Orome had tried to chase Melkor and Ugoliant over the Ice but it was too late. Lord Manwe had ordered him to turn back and forbade him from venturing out of Valinor's confines. Only Lord Ulmo and his Maiar had the freedom of ignoring that decree. Orome had always enjoyed a certain kinship with the Firstborn but Tyelkormo was like a son to him. He was not going to make the same mistake with another elf-child again.

"We will send her back to her people," Orome declared.

"And you will give her Fearocco for a companion," Vana added. Orome glared at his sometimes wilful spouse. "It is not right that she should be so alone. Moreover, this child has a gentle heart and will care for Fearocco well."

* * *

_I do not know how I came to be back in Lorien. I now have a horse of my own, Fearocco, though he is too young to be ridden yet. I must thank Lord Orome for his gift… _

Mornel put aside her journal and quill when Findis came in with Lady Este. It was important that she rested and healed. Her leg still troubled her at times but soon she would be strong enough to return to Tirion. Her amil had asked after her. There was a new addition to Lorien, a frisky young colt that seemed to be forever getting into mischief and annoying the poor healers. Fearocco was swift as the wind and some claimed that the horse ran at will from Lorien through Lady Yavanna's Pastures and Orome's Woods. The belief was that Fearocco had not been broken or tamed. As Nahar's offspring, he was a strong-willed as his sire. It would be a rare Maia or elf who could take him in hand and many doubted a mere child could manage it.

Yet in the dusk hours, the colt would wait patiently outside Mornel's hut as she fed him apples and shared her fears and hopes with him. Findis' duties and lessons often kept her busy, leaving Mornel alone.

"I know Aunt Findis did not mean to hit me… I should have waited for her to take me to view the tapestries but she might not…" No one had brought up Aqualonde since her return to Lorien. It was a tacit agreement reached by her elders. They avoided mentioning her father or brothers too, although Nerdanel could be persuaded into sharing little anecdotes of her sons in her better days. She was steadily getting stronger.

"I have read about the Silmarilli, the Oath and the Flight of the Noldor. I saw the tapestry on what happened at Aqualonde, but I do not know why anyone did what they did. Why did atto make that Oath, why did he rebel against the Ban of the Valar? Aunt Findis and Uncle Arafinwe have told me all that they would. Master Rumil, Amarie and Grandfather too. I should not bother amil, not now. I should seek out Lady Eldalote and my law sister when I return to Tirion."

The colt tossed his head and whinnied as if in agreement.

"I should go see the house where my family lived in Tirion, if it is still there… then maybe I can go to Formenos… I believe I will have to go to Aqualonde eventually…" Mornel scrunched her brow up. She knew what kind of welcome she could expect given the Teleri's reaction to her in Lorien. "I don't think Lord Aule or Lord Orome will be inviting me to their place and I don't think I will be much of a smith or hunter. I don't feel much like a princess. Perhaps I could try to be a healer…"

Fearocco shook his head and pawed at the grass.

"I hear loads of tales from Uncle about how my brother Maitimo and cousin Findekano were the best of friends, almost brothers. They used to travel the wilds of Aman together…" Perhaps she would still need a bit of woodsmanship if she was to venture out to Formenos. The keep had lain abandoned since the Darkening. She doubted anyone would be willing to accompany her, not even Grandfather Mahtan. The place was thought of as cursed by the Eldar, haunted by the ghosts of the Darkening. Some superstitious elves claimed that Moringotto's evil tainted the place and Finwe's unhoused fea wanders its halls still.

Mornel pottered about inside the hut sorting and keeping the bundles of herbs Findis had hung out to dry. The colt stuck his head through the open window and watched her. The elfling paused before a series of wooden figures. She thought to carve the likeness of her kin in wood to while the time away but her fingers lacked the skill. All she had were eight misshaped wooden dolls and several nicks on her hands, which she treated with a poultice of honey and lemon juice. Mornel gave a sigh and lined the dolls in a row on the window sill for the colt's inspection. Fearocco's ears twitched.

"This one is atto. Those two are my twin brothers… Here's Tyelkormo…"

The horse butted one of the figurines off the sill. Mornel chided her colt lightly as she bent to retrieve the fallen doll, only to have Fearocco knock the rest of the dolls over on top of her like a group of skittles. The colt nickered at the elfling's howl of outrage.

"Mornel, are you well?" Findis called out when she stepped into the house and saw the elfling sprawled on the floor rubbing her head amidst the scattered wooden dolls.

"Aye, aunt… I just bumped my head…"

"Really, I don't know how we will get that horse back to Tirion… He is quite wild."

"I think we could get him to follow us. He's too young to be ridden. Someday I will ride him to Formenos…"

"Formenos? That place is surely nothing but a ruin now…"

"My family dwelled there once… May I help you with the herbs, aunt?" Mornel sensed her aunt's reluctance to discuss Formenos and quickly changed the topic. She was not going to get her answers from her aunt.

**Author's Notes:**

Mornel is steadily growing into a more assertive phase of her life. I picture Fearocco's role in Mornel's life as similar to Huan's to Tyelkormo, a four-legged sidekick of sorts, courtesy of a Valar.


End file.
